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THE  LIBRARY 
OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


AT    DAWN    AND    DUSK 


First  Edition,  July  1898 
Second  Impression,  November  1898 
Third  Impression,  November  1910 
Fourth  Impression,  January  1913 


Digitized  by  tine  Internet  Arciiive 

in  2008  witii  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


littp://www.arcliive.org/details/atdawnduskpoemsOOdale 


^^^^-^^^^^ 


AT  DAWN  AND  DUSK 


BY 

VICTOR  J.  DALEY 

AUTHOR   OF    "wine    AND    ROSES' 


LONDON 

ANGUS   AND  ROBERTSON   LTD. 
1913 

Fourth  Impression 


Printed  by 
Bloxham  &  Chambers,  Wentworth  Place,  Sydney 

FOR 

ANGUS    &   ROBERTSON,  Ltd. 
T/jndon:    The  Oxford  University  Press,  Amen  Comer,  E.C 


TO  MY  SISTER 

In  memory  of  our  young  days  askine 

With  dreams,  when  life  was  yet  an  opening  rose, 

Tale,  Alice  dear,  this  little  book  of  mine. 
All  made  of  dreams  and  dying  sunset-glows, 

A  lonely  bird  that  singeth  far  apart — 

Yet  shall  sing  sweeter  in  its  Jiome,  thy  heart. 


91799^ 


Almost  all  the  verses  contained  in  this  volume 

were  first  published  in  the  Sydney  Bulletin.   I  wish 

to  thank  the  editor  and  proprietor  of  this  journal 

for  their  kindness  in  allowing  me  to  reprint.    Other 

verses    appeared    in    the    Sydney    Mail,     Sydney 

Freeman's    Journal,  Melbourne    Table    Talk,  and 

Melbourne  Punch.     To    these    journals    also    my 

thanks  are  due. 

V.  J.  D. 


CONTENTS 


Dreams         

1 
3 

10 

IjETHE 

Love-Laubel  (In  Memory  of  Henry  Kendall) 

A  Vision  of  Youth          

17 

Aphrodite 

20 

The  Rajah's  Sapphires 

22 

The  Cruise  of  the  IN  MEMORIAM 

27 

In  a  Wine  Cellar 

37 

A-ROVING 

44 

Brunette 

46 

Years  Ago 

48 

ViLLANELLE                    

54 

The  Voice  of  the  Soul  . .         . .         

56 

Cares             

59 

Ponce  De  Leon 

61 

Sonnets  : — 

Death 

64 

Life         

65 

Christmas  in  Australia 

66 

Questions 

67 

The  Gods           

68 

The  Gleaner 

69 

X                                      CONTENTS 

Love 

70 

Passion  Flower 

72 

To  My  Lady           

73 

The  Hawthorn 

74 

Spring  Dirge 

75 

Fragments  : — 

i.  Her  Last  Day          . .          . . 

78 

ii.  Sunset 

83 

iii.   Years  After 

86 

"Unto  this  Last" 

93 

The  Nightingale  . . 

94 

The  Two  Keys 

97 

Lachesis 

. .       104 

Symbols         

. .       105 

At  the  Opera         

. .       lOG 

Ne^ra's  Wreath 

..       Ill 

Camilla 

..        112 

Sixty  to  Sixteen 

..        113 

Bouquet  and  Bracelet 

115 

Cupid's  Funeral 

..       11(J 

The  First  of  May 

..       118 

A   Ghost 

. .        121 

Even  So 

.  .        124 

Song — "What  Shall  a  Man  Remember  ?' 

. .       127 

A  Sunset  Fantasy 

128 

Poppies 

. .       132 

CONTENTS 

xi. 

Amaranth 

.       134 

The  Little  People 

.       137 

A  King  in  Exile 

140 

Tamerlane    . . 

142 

The  Dead  Child 

.       145 

In  Memory  of  an  Actress 

.       149 

The   River  Maiden 

.       151 

A  Picture 

160 

Sea-Gifts 

161 

Day  and  Night     

.       163 

The  Poet  Care     

165 

Voices           

167 

The   Ascetic           

168 

The  Serpent's  Legacy    . . 

169 

His   Soul 

.       170 

The  Dream  of  Margaret 

172 

The  Martyr 

183 

His  Mate 

188 

The  Old  Wife  and  the  New  . 

.       195 

A  Christmas  Eve 

.       199 

Night            

.       203 

DREAMS 

I  HATE  been  dreaming  all  a  summer  day 

Of  rare  and  dainty  poems  I  would  write ; 

Love-lyrics  delicate  as  lilac-scent, 

Soft  idylls  woven  of  wind,  and  flower,  and  stream, 

And  songs  and  sonnets  carven  in  fine  gold. 

The  day  is  fading  and  the  dusk  is  cold  ; 
Out  of  the  skies  has  gone  the  opal  gleam, 
Out  of  my  heart  has  passed  the  high  intent 
Into  the  shadow  of  the  falling  night — 
Must  all  my  dreams  in  darkness  pass  away  ? 

I  have  been  dreaming  all  a  summer  day  : 
Shall  I  go  dreaming  so  until  Life's  light 
Fades  in  Death's  dusk,  and  all  my  days  are  spent? 
Ah,  what  am  I  the  dreamer  but  a  dream  ! 
The  day  is  fading  and  the  dusk  is  cold. 
I 


DREAMS 

My  songs  and  sonnets  carven  in  fine  gold 
Have  faded  from  me  with  the  last  day-beam 
That  purple  lustre  to  the  sea-line  lent, 
And  flushed  the  clouds  with  rose  and  chrysolite; 
So  days  and  dreams  in  darkness  pass  away. 

I  have  been  dreaming  all  a  summer  day 
Of  songs  and  sonnets  carven  in  fine  gold ; 
But  all  my  dreams  in  darkness  pass  away ; 
The  day  is  fading,  and  the  dusk  is  cold. 


LETHE. 

Through  the  noiseless  doors  of  Death 
Three  passed  out,  as  with  one  breath. 

Two  had  faces  stern  as  Fate, 
Stamped  with  unrelenting  hate. 

One  upon  her  lips  of  guile 
Wore  a  cold,  mysterious  smile. 

Each  of  each  unseen,  the  pale 
Shades  went  down  the  hollow  vale 

Till  they  came  unto  the  deep 
Kiver  of  Eternal  Sleep. 

Breath  of  wind,  or  wing  of  bird, 
Never  that  dark  stream  hath  stirred  ; 


LETHE 

Still  it  seems  as  is  the  shore. 
But  it  flows  for  evermore 

Softly,  through  the  meadows  wan 
To  the  Sea  Oblivion. 

In  the  dusk,  like  drops  of  blood, 
Poppies  hang  above  the  flood ; 

On  its  surface  lies  a  thin, 
Ghostly  web  of  mist,  wherein 

All  things  vague  and  changing  seem 
As  the  faces  in  a  dream. 

Two  knelt  down  upon  the  bank 
And  of  that  dark  water  drank. 

But  the  Third  stood  by  the  while. 
Smiling  her  mysterious  smile. 

Rising  up,  those  shades  of  men 
Gazed  upon  each  other,  then 

Side  by  side,  upon  the  bank. 
In  a  bed  of  poppies  sank. 
4 


LETHE 

"  What/'  one  to  tlie  otlier  saitli, 

"Scut  tltee  thi'OLig'li  the  doors  of  death  ?" — • 

^"^  While  life  throbbed  in  every  vein. 
For  a  woman  I  was  slain. 

"  Love  is  but  a  fleeting-  spell. 
Hate  alone  remembers  well. 

"  For  my  slayer  I  shall  wait, 
And  tlioiigh  he  at  Heaven's  gate 

"  Stand,  and  wear  an  angel's  crown, 
I  shall  seize  and  drag  him  down  !" 

So  the  stern  shade  made  reply. 
Then  the  first  that  spake  said  :  "  I 

"  For  a  woman's  sake,  also. 
Slew  myself — and  slew  my  foe. 

"  Slew  myself,  that  in  no  shape 
He  my  vengeance  should  escape, 

"  Till  Oblivion  swallow  both  : 
And  I  swore  a  solemn  oath 
5 


LETHE 

"  I  would — hate  remembers  well — 
iluut  his  spotted  soul  to  hell. 

^'  But  I  left_,  ere  leave-taking, 
Round  her  throat  a  dark  red  ring. 

"  I  shall  know  her — yoa  shall  note — 
By  that  red  ring  round  her  throat. 

"  Well  I  loved  va^  fair,  (ulse  wife, 
And  perchance  in  this  new  life 

"  She  may  love  me — we  shall  see — 
She  shall  choose  'twixt  him  and  me,'*' 

Softly  did  the  other  sigh  : 
"  My  love's  love  will  never  die. 

"  Love  is  not  a  fleeting  spell — 
Love,  like  hate,  remembers  well. 

''  Soon — mayhap  on  this  dim  shore — 
We  shall  meet  to  part  no  more." 

Then  the  first  Shade  spoke  and  said : 
"  In  this  Kingdom  of  the  Dead 
6 


LETHE 

"  Let  us,  who  so  strangely  meet, 
Pledge  each  other  in  this  sweet 

"  Water,  our  revenge  to  wreak 
Side  by  side,  and  so  to  seek, 

"  Side  by  side,  whate'er  our  fate, 
Those  we  love  and  those  we  hate." 

Kneeling  on  the  dim  shore  then. 
Side  by  side,  they  drank  again. 

And  they  saw,  like  drops  of  blood, 
Poppies  nodding  o'er  the  flood. 

And  they  gazed  upon  the  thin 
(xhostly  web  of  mist,  wherein 

All  things  vague  and  changing  seem 
As  the  faces  in  a  dream ; 

And  by  some  enchantment  weird. 
As  they  gazed  thereon  appeared 

Unto  each,  down-bending  low. 
Form  and  features  of  his  foe, 
7 


LEI  ^^ 

For  a  moment,  then  ^vere  gone, 
And  npon  the  meadows  wan — 

Half  in  Death  and  half  a-swoon — 
Shone  a  pale  and  specti'al  moon. 

Then  these  twain  rose,  drowsy-eyed. 
And  departed  side  by  side. 

But  the  Woman  Shade  the  while 
Smiled  her  cold,  mysterious  smile. 

And  her  beauty  made  a  h'o-ht 
In  that  realm  of  pallid  night 

(Beauty  laughs  at  Avorm  and  grave) 
Like  the  moon  beneath  the  wave. 

Back  she  flung  her  hair  of  gold, 
Glowing,  gleaming,  fold  on  fold, 

Showing — all  but  these  might  note— 
The  red  ring  around  her  throat. 

But  they  passed  with  cold  surprise, 
And  unrecognising  eyes. 


LETHE 

Lightly  laughed  she  then,  and  said  : 
"  In  this  Kingdom  of  the  Dead 

"  Strange  the  sights  that  one  may  see ! 
There  go  twain  who  died  for  me 

"  Seeking^  through  Creation  wide, 
For  each  other — side  by  side  \" 

Then  she  wove  a  j^^pjiy  crown. 
Placed  it  on  her  head,  and  d(.)\vn 

On  the  river's  margin  sank 
Midst  the  poppies  of  its  b:ink_, 

Saj'ing  :   "  In  the  world  al)Ove 
Long  he  tarries,  my  true  love. 

"  Here  beside  this  river's  rim 
I  will  sleep,  and  wait  for  him." 


LOYE-LAUKEL 

[In  MicwoiiY  OF  Henj;y  Kkndall.] 

Ah!  tlint  God  once   would  touch  my   lips  with 

soug 
To     pierce,    as     pi-iyer     doth     heaven,     earth's 
breast  of  iron, 
So    that  with  sweet    mouth    I  might  sing  to 

thee, 
0  sweet  dead  singer  buried  by  the  sea, 
A  song,  to  woo  tliee,  as  a  Avooing  siren. 
Out  of  that  silent  sleep  which  seals  too  long 
Thy  mouth  of  melody. 

For,  if  live  lips  might  speak  awhile  to  dead, 
Or  any  speech  could  reach  the  sad  world  under 
This  woi'ld  of  ours,  song  surely  should  awake 
Thee  who  didst  dwell  in  shadow  for  song's 
sake ! 


LOVK-LAUUEL 


Alas  !  thou  canst  not  hear  the  voice  oF  thiuiJer, 
Nor  low  dirg'e  over  thy  low-lyini^  head 
The  winds  of  morniiiy  make. 


Down  through  the  clay   tliere  comes  no  sound  of 

these ; 
Down  in  the  grave  there  is  no  sign  of  Summer, 
Nor  any  knowledge  of  tlie  soft-eyed.  Spring; 
But  Death  sits    there,    with    outspread,    ebon 
wing, 
Closing    with     dust    the    mouth    of    each    new- 
comer 
To  that  mute  land,  Avhere  never  sound,  of  seas 
Is  heard,  and  no  birds  sing. 


Now  thou  hast  found  the  end  of  all  thy  days 
Hast  thou  found  any  heart  a  vigil  keeping 

For  thee   among  the   dead — some  heart  that 

heard 
Thy  singing  when  .thou  weit  a  brown,  sweet 
bird 


LOVB-LADREL 

Gray    seons    gone,   in  some   old   forest  sleeping 
Beneath  the   seas  long  since  ?    in  Death's   (lira 
ways 
Has  thy  heart  any  word  ? 


For  surely  those  in  whom  the  deathless  spark 

Of  song  is  kindled,  sang  from  the  beginning 
If  life  were  always  ?     But  the  old  desires — 
Do  they  exist  when  sad-eyed  Hope  expires  ? 

How  live   the   dead  ?    what    crowns    have    they 
for  winning  ? 

Have  they,  to  warm  them  in  the  dreamless  dark, 
For  sun  earth's  central  fires  ? 


Are  the  dead  dead  indeed  whom  we  call  dead  ? 
Has  God  no  life  but  this  of  ours  for  giving  ? — 
When   that    they    took    thee    by    each    well- 
known  place, 
Stark  in  thy  coffin  with  a  cold  white  face. 
What  thought,    0   Brother,    hadst    thou  of  tlio 
living  ? 

12 


LOVE-LAOREL 

What  of  the  sun  that  round  thee  glory  shed  ? 
What  of  the  fair  day's  grace  ? 

Is  thy  new  life  made  up  of  memories 
Or   dreams   that  lull   the    dead^   bright    visions 
bringing 

Of  Spring  above  !   Are  thy  days  sliort  or  long? 

Tliou  who  wert  master  of  our  singing  throng 
Mayhap  in  death  thou  hast  not  lost  thy  singing, 
But  chauntst  unheard,  beside  the  moaning  sea, 

A  solitary  song. 

The  chance  spade  turns  up  skulls.    God  help  the 

dead 
And  thee   whose   singing  days  have  all  passed 
over — 
Thee,    Avhom    the    gold-haired    Spring    shall 

seek  in  vain 
When    at   the   gUid   year's  doors   she   stands 
again, 
Remembering     the     song-garlands    thou     hast 
wove  her 

13 


LOVE-LAUREL 


In  years  gone  by  :   but  all  those  years  have  fle;l 
AV'itli  all  their  joy  and  pain. 


My  soul  Jaughed  out  to  hear  my  heart  speak  so, 
And  sprang  forth  skyward,  as  an  eagle,  hoping 
To  look  upon  thy  soul  with  living  eyes. 
Until  it  came  to  where  our  dim  life  dies, 
And  dead  suns  darkly  for  a  grave  are  groping 
Through  cycles  of  immeasurable  woe, 
Stone-blind  in  the  blind  skies. 

The  stars  walk  shuddering  on  that  awful  verge 
From   which    my    soul,  with   swift   and  fearless 
motion. 
Clove  the  black   depths,  and  sought  for  God 

and  thee ; 
But   God  dwells    where    nor    stars  nor  suns 
there  be — 
No  shore  there  is  to  His  Eternal  Ocean  ; 
A  thousand  systems  are  a  fi'inge  of  surge 
On  that  great  starless  sea. 
•4 


LOVE-LAUUEL 

And  thou  wertnot.     So  that-,  with  weary  plumes, 
My  sonl  tlirougli  the  great  void    its  way  came 
wing'ing 
To  earth  again.     "What  hope  for  him   who 

sings 
Is  there?"  it  sighed.    "Death  ends  all  sweetest 
things." 
When  lo  !  there  came  a  swell  of  mighty  singing, 
Flooding  all  space,  and  swift  athwart  the  glooms 
A  flash  of  sudden  wings. 


Dreamer  of  dreams,  thy  songs  and  dreams  are 

done. 
Down    where    thou    sleepest   in    earth's    secret 
bosom 
There  is  no  sorrow  and  no  joy  for  thee, 
Who  canst  not  see  what  stars  at  eve  there  he, 
Nor  evermore  at  morn  the  green  dawn  blossom 
Into  the  golden  king-flower  of  the  sun 
Across  the  golden  sea. 
«5 


LOVE-LAUREL 

lint  liaply  there  sliall  come  in  days  to  bo 
One  wlio  shall  licar  his  own   heart   beatinG: 
faster^ 
ri'.'.king-    a  rose   sprung  from   thy    heart 

beneath, 
And  from  his  soul,  as  sword  from  out  its 
sheath, 
iSong-  sliall  leap  forth   where  now,    0   silent 

master, 
On  t!iy  lone  grave  beside  the  sounding  sea, 
I  lay  this  laurel-wreath. 


A  AnSION  OF  YOUTH 

A  HORSEMAN  on  a  hilltop  green 
Di-ew  rein,  and  woiinl  liis  horn  ; 

So  bright  he  looked  ho  might  have  been 
The  Herald  of  the  Morn. 

His  steed  was  of  the  sovran  strain 
In  Fancy's  meadows  bred — 

And  pride  was  in  his  tossing  mane, 
And  triumph  in  his  tread. 

The  rider's  eyes  like  jewels  glowed — 
The  World  was  in  his  hand — 

As  down  the  woodland  way  he  rode 
When  Spring  was  in  the  land. 
17 


A    VISION    OF    YOUTH 

From  golden  hour  to  golden  hour 

For  him  the  woodland  sang, 
And  from  the  heart  of  every  flower 

A  siriL^-ing  fairy  sprang. 

rie  rode  along  with  rein  so  free. 

And,  as  he  rode,  the  Blue 
Mysterious  Bird  of  Fantasy 

Ever  before  him  flew. 

He  rode  by  cot  and  castle  dim 
Through  all  the  greenland  gay ; 

]3right  eyes  through  casements  glanced  at 
him ; 
He  laughed — and  rode  away. 

The  world  with  sunshine  was  aflood. 
And  glad  were  maid  and  man, 

And  throuo-h  his  throbbincf  veins  the  blood 
In  keen,  sweet  shudders  ran. 


His  steed  tossed  head  with  fiery  scorn, 
And  stamped,  and  snuifed  the  air — 
i8 


A    VISION    OF   YOUTH 

As  tliougli  he  heard  a  sudden  horn 
Of  far-off  battle  blare. 

Erect  the  rider  sat  awhile 
With  flashing  eyes,  and  then 

Turned  slowly,  sighing,  with  a  smile, 
"  O  weary  world  of  men  ! " 

For  aye  the  Bird  of  Fantasy 
Sang  magic  songs  to  him, 

And  deep  and  deeper  still  rode  he 
Into  the  Forest  Dim. 


That  rider  with  his  face  aglow 

With  joy  of  life  I  see 
In  dreams.     Ah,  years  and  years  ago 

He  parted  ways  with  me  ! 

Yet,  sometimes,  when  the  days  are  drear 

And  all  the  world  forlorn. 
From  out  the  dim  wood's  heart  I  hear 

The  echo  of  his  horn. 


19 


APHRODITE 

On  a  golden  dawn  in  the  dawn  sublime 
Of  years  ere  the  stars  had  ceased  to  sing", 
Beautiful  out  of  the  sea-deeps  cold 
Aphrodite  arose — the  Flower  of  Time — 
That,  dear  till  the  day  of  her  blossouiiug-, 
The  oldj  old  Se.a  had  borno  in  his  heart. 
Around  her  worshipping-  waves  did  part 
Tremulous — glowing  in  rose  and  gold. 

And  the  birds  broke  forth  into  singing  sweet, 
And  flowers  born  scentless  breathed  perfume : 
Roftly  she  smiled  upon  Man  forlorn, 
And  the  music  of  love  in  his  wild  heart  beat, 
And  down  to  the  pit  went  his  gods  of  gloom. 
And  earth  grew  bright  and  fair  as  a  bride. 
And  folk  in  star-worlds  wondering  cried — 
"Lo  iu  the  skies  a  new  star  is  born  !" 


APHRODITE 


O  Beloved^  tiiiis  on  my  small  world  you 
Rose^  flushing  it  all  with  rosy  flame  ! 
Changing  sad  thouglits  to  a  singing  throng, 
And  creating  the  earth  and  the  sky  anew! 
As  Love  you  appeared — and^  lo^  you  are  Fame, 
And,  all  my  follies  and  sins  despite, 
You  yet,  Beloved,  may  see  my  light — 
Small,  but  a  star — mid  tlie  stars  of  song. 


THE  EAJAH'S  SAPl^HIRES 

In  my  garden,  O  Beloved ! 
Many  pleasant  trees  are  growing. 
Peach,  and  apricot,  and  apple, 
Myrtle,  lilac,  and  laburnum. 

Fair  are  they,  but  midst  them  lonely. 
Like  an  exiled  Eastern  Princess 
In  a  strange  land  far  from  kindred. 
Stands  a  lonely  fair  Pomegranate. 

Dreaming  of  its  native  Orient 
Always  is  the  fair  Pomegranate, 
And  beneath  it  I  lie  dreaminsr 
Of  thine  eyes  and  thee.  Beloved  ! 


TUE    KAJAHS    MArrHlRES 

Overhead  its  red  globes^  gleaming 
Like  red  moons,  old  tales  recall  of 
Eastern  moons  and  songs  of  Hafiz — • 
Nightingales,  and  wine,  and  i-oses. 

And  at  times  it  seems  a  mystic 
Tree  Circean,  whose  red  fruit  is 
Broken  hearts  of  old-time  lovers. 
Thus  their  secrets  sad  revealing. 

And  within  each  red  sun-cloven 
Glossy  globe,  like  little  rosy- 
Hearts  within  a  great  heart  glowing, 
Glow  translucent  seeds  of  crimson. 

Like  the  fruit  of  the  Pomegrauatp 
Full  of  little  hearts  liiy  heart  is. 
And  the  little  hearts  so  glowing 
They  are  thoughts  of  thee,  Beloved  ! 

Haply  these  at  times  are  woven 
In  with  dreams  of  the  Pomegranate  ; 
Thus,  perchance,  I  dreamt  the  wondrous 
Dream  within  a  dream  here  written. 
23 


THE    RAJAU  S    SAPPHIRES 

In  liis  palace-liallj  methouglit,  I 
Saw  a  splendid  Indian  Rajah; 
Fame  and  Fortune  were  his  vassals, 
But  his  heart  was  sad  within  liiin. 

Round  him  stood  his  chiefs  and  captains. 
"  Great  art  thou,"  they  cried,  "  0  Rajah  ! 
And  thy  hand  is  strong  in  battle." 
But  he  smiled  not  at  their  speeches. 

Silently  through  his  Zenana 

Passed  he,  glanced  with  cold  iuid  careless 

Byes  at  women,  fair  as  houris 

Seen  in  visions  bred  of  hasheesh. 

Like  to  dawn,  and  noon,  and  starry 
Night — like  all  the  moods  of  passion — 
Were  they,  rose-and-white  Circassians, 
Amber  Hindoos,  dark-eyed  ]*ersians. 

Dancing  girls  with  golden  armlets, 
Golden  rings  around  their  aiiklos — ■ 
Making  music  clear,  melodious 
As  the  plash  of  crystal  fountains 


THE    rajah's    sapphires 

Heard  in  still,  hot  niglits  of  sununer— 
Danced  the  Lovers'  Dunce  before  hiiti; 
But  he  heeded  not  their  dancing, 
For  his  heart  was  sad  within  him. 

Thence  unto  liis  treasure-chanihor 
Strode  he — there  to  gaze  on  gems  that 
Rajahs  dead  had  won  and  hoarded ; 
Tragic-storied,  splendid  jewels — 

Flashing  diamonds,  like  fallen 
Stars,  for  whose  bright  evil  beauty 
Blood  in  old  days  had  been  spilt  that 
Should  have  made  them  burn  like  rubies; 

Emeralds  greener  than  Spring's  garments, 
Pearls  like  unto  tears  of  Peris 
Weeping  by  the  gates  of  Kden ; 
Opals  with  their  fateful  lustre. 

Lonsr  on  these,  and  countless  other 
Many-coloured  gems,  the  Rajah 
Gazed,  but  found  no-  more  delight  in 
Their  sun-flashing  brilliant  beauty. 
25 


TUB    KAJAH  S    SAl'l'IIIRKS 

lie  had  dreamt  a  dream  enclianting 
Of  twin-sappliires,  blue  as  Heaven, 
And  his  ho;i,rfc  was  filled  with  hunger 
And  with  yearuini^  to  possess  them. 

Therefore  unto  his  Vizier  he 
Told  his  dream,  and  g-ave  command  tliat 
He  sliould  seek  the  wide  world  over, 
Till  he  found  the  wondrous  sa})phires. 

Doth  that  sad  Vizier  still  wander 
O'er  the  earth  the  snpphires  seeking  ? 
Sooth,  I  know  not — hut  I  know  that 
He  will  never  find  them,  never. 

For  they  were  no  cold,  bright  sapphires 
That  the  Rajah  in  his  dream  saw,    .  .  . 
Waking  from  my  dream  I  knew  that 
They  were  thy  blue  eyes.  Beloved  ! 


26 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  "IN  MEMORTAM" 

The  wan  lig-lit  of  a  stormy  dawn 

Gleamed  on  a  tossing  ship: 
It  was  the  In  Memoriam 

Upon  a  mourning'  trip. 

Wild  waves  were  on  the  windward  bow. 

And  breakers  on  the  lee  ; 
And  through  her  sides  the  women  heard 

The  seetliing  of  the  sea. 

"  O  Captain  ! "  cried  a  widow  fair. 

Her  plump  white  hands  clasped  she, 

"  Thinkst  thou,  if  dro.wned  in  this  dread  storm, 
'J'hat  savtid  we  shall  be  ?  " 
27 


TUE    CRUISE    OF   THE    "  IN    MEMORIAM 

"  You  speak  in  riddles,  lady  dear^ 
How  saved  can  we  be 
If  we  are  drowned  ?"     "Alas,  I  mean 
In  Paradise  !"  said  she. 

"  0  I've  sailed  North,  and  I've  sailed  South 

(He  was  a  godless  wight), 
"  ]>ut  l)oy  or  man,  since  my  days  began, 

That  sliore  I  ne'er  did  sight !" 

The  Captain  told  the  First  Mate  bold 

What  that  fair  lady  said; 
The  First  Mate  sneered  in  his  black  beai'd — 

Ilis  eyes  burned  in  his  head. 

''  Full  forty  souls  are  here  aboard, 
A-sailing  on  the  wave — 
Without  the  crew,  and,  'tvvixt  us  two, 
I  tliink  tlieifve  none  to  save — 

"  Full  forty  souls,  and  each  one  is 
A  mourner,  as  you  know. 
They  weep  the  scuppers  full ;   the  ship 
Is  waterlog-ged  with  woe." 
28 


THE    CRUISE    OF    TITK    "  IN    MEMORIAM 

Again  he  sneered  in  his  black  beard : 
"  The  cruise  is  not  so  brief, 
But,  ere  we  land  on  earthly  strand, 
All  will  have  found  relief." 

"Nay,  nay,"  the  Captain  said,  "  First  Mate, 
You  have  forgotten  one 
With  eyes  of  blue ;  the  tears  are  true 
From  those  dear  eyes  that  run ! 

"She  mourns  her  sweetheart  drowned  last  year, 
A  seaman  he,  forsooth  ! 
I  would  not  di-own  for  Christ  his  crown 
If  she  were  mine,  Fair  Ruth  !" 

"  Brave  words  !  but  words,"  the  First  Mate 
cried, 
"  Are  wind  !     Behold  in  me 
The  warmest  lover  and  the  last ! 
]\Iiue  shall  the  maiden  be." 

Fair  Ruth  stood  by  the  talfrail  high, 
A  cross  dropped  in  the  sea, 
29 


THE    CRUISE    OF    THE    "  IN    MKMOltlAM 

"  If  you  lie  liere^  my  sweetheart  dear, 
By  this  remember  me  \" 

h'luv  Ruth  stood  by  the  taiJrail  high, 
A  ring  dropped  in  the  sea : 
"  Marry  him  not,  ye  false  mermaids. 
Married  he's  now  to  me  !  " 

The  heavens  flashed  flame;   a  black  cloud 
came, 

Its  wings  the  sky  did  span, 
And  liovered  above  the  fated  ship 

Like  death  o'er  a  dying  man. 

Bended  the  spars  and  shrieked  the  shrouds, 

The  sails  flew  from  the  mast, 
And,  like  a  soul  by  fiends  pui'sued. 

The  ship  fled  through  tho  blast. 

"  More  sail !  more  sail !  "  the  First  Mate  cried 

(The  Captain  stood  atrhast), 
"More  sail!   more  sail '."and  he  laughed  in 
scorn. 
All  by  the  mi^ou  mast. 
30 


THE    CRUISli;    OF    THE        IN    MEMORIAII 

'^  0  bretlireii  dear,  there's  nongbt  to  fear, 
The  steward  told  nie  so  V 
'Twas  tlie  parson  meek  who  thus  did  speak, 
Just  come  up  from  below  : 

"And  Jt'ere  there/' he  said,  with  uprnis  ^1  head. 

And  hands  clasped  piously, 
"  I  have  a  sainted  spouse  in  Heaven — 

I  trow  she  waits  for  me." 

Then  grimly  laughed  the  false  First  Hate  ' 
"  Good  parson,  let  her  be  ! 
I've  a  wife  in  every  poi't  but  flud — 
And  that  we  shall  not  see." 

"Oh,  pardon  seek  !"  cried  the  parson  meek, 
"  And  pray,  if  jn-ay  you  can, 
For  much  I  fear,  by  your  scornful  sneer, 
Tliat  you  are  a  sinful  man." 

Then  louder  laughed  the  false  Fii\st  Mate, 

Louder  and  louder  still. 
And  the  wicked  crew  Inughed  loudly  too, 

As  wicked  seamen  will. 
31 


THli    CRUISE    OF   THE    "IN    MEMORIAM 

"O  Captain  !"  whispered  a  gentle  dame, 
''  When  shall  we  see  the  land  ?" 
The  Captain  answered  never  a  word, 
But  clasped  her  by  the  hand. 


Day  after  day,  night  after  night, 

On,  on  the  ship  did  reel  : 
The  Captain  drank  with  the  second  mate, 

The  First  Mate  held  the  wheel. 

Down  came  a  black  cloud  on  the  ship. 
And  wrapped  her  like  a  pall, 

And  horror  of  awful  darknes-;  fell 
Upon  them  one  and  all. 

The  night  had  swallowed  them  utterly, 

None  could  his  fellow  see, 
But  ghostly  voices  up  and  down 

Went  whispering  fearsomely. 

No  faint  ray  shone  from  moon  or  suti, 
The  light  of  Heaven  was  gone, 
32 


The  ciiUisE  OF  the  "  in  memoriam  '^ 


But  ever  the  First  Mute  lield  tlie  wheel, 
And  ever  the  ship  rushed  on. 

•  •••••• 

Fair  Ruth  knolt  doAvu  in  t1i;it  grim  gloom, 
tShe  prayed  beneath  her  breath  : 
"  God  carry  me  o'er  this  dread  sea 
That  seems  the  Sea  of  Death  \" 

She  ceased — and  io  !  a  lurid  glow 

O'er  that  dark  water  spread, 
And  in  the  blackness  burned,  afar, 

A  line  of  bloody  red. 

"  Wiiat  lights  are  yon  ?"  the  Captain  said. 

The  First  Mate  answered  then  : 
"  No  lights  that  ever  shone  upon 

The  world  of  living  men." 

''  Down  on  your  knees  \"  the  parson  cried  ; 
"Thank  God,  for  all  is  well!'' 
The  First   Mate    laughed:     "Those   lights, 
they  are 
The  harbour  lights  of  Hell." 
33 


THE    CUULSE    01''    THE        IN    MEMURIAM 

Oil  Hew  the  sliip;  to  every  lip 

An  aslien  pallor  came, 
For  all  might  see  that  suddenly 

The  sea  had  turned  to  flame. 

The  lights  were  near;  the  Sea  of  Fear, 

Amid  the  silence  dire, 
On  that  dread  shore  broke  evermore 

In  soundless  foam  of  fire. 

"  Oil;  what  are  yon  gray  ghosts  and  wan  ! 
The  parson  cried,  "  who  seem 
With  coloured  strings  of  beads  to  play. 
As  in  a  dreadful  dream  ?" 

"Damned  souls;"    the  First  Mate  said; 
"they  sit 
And  count,  through  endless  years, 
The  moments  of  Eternity 
On  beads  of  burning  tears." 

Then,  "Who  are  you,"  the  parson  said, 
"  That  talk  so  free  of  Hell  ?" 
34 


THE    CRUISE    OF    THE    '    IN    MEMORIAM 

"  My  natne  is  Satan/'  he  replied, 
"  Ilave  I  not  steered  you  well  ?" 

"  Back — back  the  yards  !"  the  Captain  cried 
Then  quoth  the  false  First  Mate  : 

"  Like  many  more  who  sight  this  shore, 
You  back  your  yards  too  late." 

"  There  are  the  dear  deceased  you  mourned 
Witli  such  exceeding  zest ; 
They  call  you — whoso  freely  goes 
E'en  yet  may  save  the  rest." 

One  pale  ghost  waved  the  vessel  back 

With  gestures  sad  and  dumb — 
Fair  Ruth  has  plunged  into  the  sea, 
"  My  love,  my  love,  I  come  ! " 


All  in  a  moment  shone  the  sun, 
Blue  gleatned  the  sky  and  sea, 

The  brave  old  ship  upon  the  waves 
Was  dancing  merrily. 
35 


THE    CRUISE    OF   TUE    "  IN    MEMOillAM 

And  merrily  to  sound  of  bells 

To  lier  old  port  full  soon 
The  In  Memoriam  that  went  forth 

Returned  the  Honeymoon. 

There  o'er  their  grog  sea-captains  still 

Her  wondrous  story  tell, 
And  how  her  Captain  backed  his  yards 

A  biscuit-throw  from  Hell. 


IN  A  WINE  CELLAR 

See  how  it  flashes^ 

This  grnpo-blond  fine  !- 
Our  beards  it  splaslies, 

0  comrade  mine  ! — 
Life  dust  and  ashes 

Were,  wanting  wine. 

Amontillado 

Fires  heart  and  eyes; 
Champagne  the  shadow 

Of  care  defies ; 
An  El  Dorado 

In  llhine-wine  lies; 

Pot't  has  the  mintage 
Of  generous  deeds; 
37 


IN   A    WINE    CELLAR 

Tokay  scorns  stintage 
And  richly  bleeds ; 

But  this  great  vintage 
The  Wine-March  leads. 

Yet  it  is  wanting 

In  poesy ; 
No  legends  haunting 

Its  vassals  be, 
No  tales  enchanting 

Of  chivalry. 

Spain's  grape  hath  stories; 

Its  blood  the  bold 
Conquistadores 

Drank  deep  of  old — 
A  wine  of  glories, 

A  wine  of  gold. 

Who  drinks  not  sparing, 

Beholdeth  he 
The  great  Cid  bearing 

His  banner  free, 
38 


IN    A    WINE    CELLAR 

Columbus  daring 
The  unknown  Sea , 

And,  liaply  biding, 
In  this  dream- Spn  in, 

Don  Quixote  riding 
Across  the  plain, 

His  squire  confiding 
Beside  his  rein. 

The  wine  of  France  is 

Aglow  to-day 
With  flash  of  lances, 

With  feast  and  friiy, 
And  dark-eyed  glances 

Of  ladies  gay. 

See  wliere  together, 

A  flagon  near, 
Lie  hat  with  feather. 

And  long  rapier — 
Fine  courting  weather, 

0  Cavaher ! 
39 


IN   A   WINE    CELLAR 

Bright  Rhenish,  gleaming 
Mo  on- white  !   Perchance 

Thy  wave  clear  beaming 
Still  gnards  Romance, 

Not  dead,  but  dreaming 
In  spell-bound  trance ! 

Not  in  Rhine-water, 
But  Rhine-wine  fair 

Sir  Rupert  sought  her 
(As  bards  declare) 

The  Rhine  King's  daughter 
With  golden  hair. 

Still  'neath  its  smiling 
Wave's  amber  rings, 

Men  sweetly  wiling 
From  earthly  things, 

Her  song  beguiling 
The  Loreley  sings. 

Your  cup,  wild  siren. 

That  Deutschland  drains- 
40 


IN    A    WINE    CELI-AR 

Her  heart  of  iron 

Movanl  by  your  strains — ■ 
No  l»Jo()(l  sliall  lire  iu 

Australian  veins  ; 

Nor  yours  whose  cliarm  is 

Your  to])az  eyne, 
Nor  yours  whose  armies 

In  g'old  caps  shine, 
Shall  charm  or  harm  us — 

Eh,  comrade  mine  ? 

No  vintage  alien 

For  thee  or  me  ! 
Our  fount  Castalian 

Of  poesy 
Shall  wine  Australian, 

None  otlier  be. 

Then  place  your  hand  in 
This  hand  of  mine, 

And  while  we  stand  iu 
Her  brave  sunshine 

4.1 


IN    A    WINE    CELLAR 

I'ledge  deep  our  laud  in 
Our  laud's  owu  wiue. 

It  has  no  glamour 

Of  old  romance, 
Of  war  and  amour 

In  Spain  or  France; 
Its  poets  stammer 

As  yet,  perchance ; 

But  he  may  wholly 

Become  a  seer 
Who  quails  it  slowly; 

For  he  shall  heai-, 
Though  faintly,  lowly, 

Yet  sweet  and  clear. 

The  axes  ringing 
On  mountain  sides. 

The  wool-boats  swinging 
Down  Darling  tides. 

The  drovers  singing 
Where  Clancv  rides, 


IN    A    WINK    CKI-LAIi 

Tlie  iiiiiiors  driving, 

The  stockman's  strife; 

All  sounds  conuiving 
To  tell  the  rife, 

Ilich^  rude,  strong-striving 
Australian  life. 

Once  more  your  hand  in 
This  hand  of  mine  ! 

And  while  we  stand  in 
The  brave  sunshine. 

Pledge  deep  our  land  in 
Our  land's  own  wine  ! 


43 


A-KOVING 

When  the  sap  runs  up  tlio  tree, 

And  the  vine  runs  o'er  the  wall, 
When  the  blossom  draws  the  bee, 

From  the  forest  comes  a  call, 
Wild,  and  clear,  and  sweet,  and  strati l'iv 

Many-toned  and  murmuring 
Like  the  river  in  the  range — 

'Tis  the  joyous  voice  of  Spring  ! 

On  the  boles  of  gray  old  trees 

See  the  flying  sunl)eams  play 
Mystic,  sonn(Pe;s  melodies — 

A  fantastic  march  and  gay ; 
But  the  young  loaves  hear  them — hark, 

How  they  rustle,  every  one  ! — 
And  the  sap  beneath  the  bark 

Hearing,  leaps  to  iiK^ct  the  sun, 

44 


A-ROVING 


0,  the  world  is  wondrous  fair 

When  tlio  tide  of  life's  at  flood  ! 
There  is  magic  in  the  air^ 

There  is  music  in  the  blood ; 
And  a  glamour  draws  us  on 

To  the  Distance,  rainbow-spanned, 
And  the  road  we  tread  upon 

Is  the  road  to  Fairyland. 

Lo  !  the  elders  hear  the  sweet 

Voice,  and  know  the  wondrous  song; 
And  their  ancient  pulses  beat 

To  a  tune  forgotten  long ; 
And  they  talk  in  whispers  low. 

With  a  smile  and  with  a  sigh. 
Of  the  years  of  long  ago, 

And  the  roving  days  gone  by. 


45 


BRUNETTE 

WiiKN  trees  iu  Spring 
Are  blossomiug 

My  lady  wakes 
P'rom  dreams  wliose  lii^lit 
Made  dark  days  bright. 

For  their  sweet  sakes. 

Yet  in  her  eyes 
A  shadow  lies 

Of  bygone  mirth; 
And  still  she  seems 
To  walk  in  dreams, 

And  not  on  earth. 

0 


BUUNl'n'TE 

Some  men  ni:i,y  liold 
That  hair  of  gold 

Is  lovelier 
Than  darker  sheen  : 
They  liave  not  seen 

My  lady's  hair. 

Her  eyes  are  bright. 
Her  bosom  white 

As  the  sea  foam 
On  sharp  rocks  spra3'od  ; 
Her  mouth  is  made 

Of  honeycomb. 

And  whoso  seeks 
In  her  dusk  cheeks 

May  see  Love's  sign — ■ 
A  blush  that  glows 
Like  a  red  rose 

Beneath  brown  wine. 


47 


YEARS  AGO 

Thk  old  dead  flowers  of  bygone  sumniers, 
The  old  sweet  songs  that  are  no  more  sung, 

The  rose-red  dawns  that  were  welcome  comers 
When  you  and  I  and  the  world  were  young, 

Arc  lost,  0  love,  to  the  light  for  ever, 
And  seen  no  more  of  the  moon  or  sun, 

For  seas  divide,  and  the  seasons  sever, 
And  twain  are  we  that  of  old  were  one, 

0  fair  lost  love,  when  the  ship  went  sailing 
Across  the  seas  in  the  years  agone. 

And  seaward-set  were  the  eyes  unquailing, 
And  landward-looking  the  faces  wan, 
48 


YEA us    AGO 

My  heart  went  back  as  a  dove  goes  hoineward 
With  wings  aweary  to  seek  its  nest, 

While  fierce  sea-eagles  are  flying  foaniward 
And  storm-winds  whiten  the  surge's  crest ; 

And  far  inland  for  a  farewell  jiardon 

Flew  on  and  on,  while  the  ship  went  South — 

The  rose  was  red  in  tlie  red-rose  garden, 
And  red  the  rose  of  your  laughing  mouth. 

But  no  word  came  on  the  wind  in  token 
Of  love  that  lasts  till  the  end  ;  and  so 

My  heart  returned  to  me  bruised  and  broken, 
From  you,  my  love,  of  the  long  ago. 

The  green  fields  seemed  in  the  distance  growing 
To  silken  squares  on  a  weaver's  loom,     , 

As  oversea  came  the  land-wind  blowing 
The  faint  sweet  scent  of  the  clover  bloom. 

A  rarer  odour  to  me  it  carried, 

In  subtle  delicate  way  to  tell 
Of  you,  ere  you  and  the  world  were  married — 

The  lilac-odour  you  loved  so  well. 
49 


YEARS    AGO 

Again,  I  saw  you  beueatli  the  blooms  of 
Those  lilac-trees  in  the  garden  old. 

All  me !  each  tree  is  a  mark  for  tombs  of 
Dead  dreams  and  memories  still  and  cold. 

And  Death  comes  there  with  his   breath  scent- 
laden, 

And  gathering  gently  the  blossoms  shed 
(In  guise  of  Autumn,  the  brown-browed  maiden) 

With  your  and  my  dead  buries  his  dead. 

0,  fairer  far  than  the  fair  ideal 

Of  him  who  imaged  the  foam-born  Queen 
In  foam-wliito  marble — a  dream  made  real — 

To  me  were  you  in  those  years,  I  ween. 

Your  lips  were  redder  than  night-shade  berries 
That  burn  in  borders  of  hedge  rowed  lanes, 

And  sweeter  far  than  the  sweet  wild  cherries 
The  June  snn  flushes  with  ci'imson  stains. 

And  grny  your  eyes  as  a  gray  dove's  wings  were — 
A  gray  soft-shadowing  deeps  profound, 

CO 


YEARS    AGO 

Where   thoughts  that  reached  to  the   heart  of 
things  were, 
And    love    lay    dreaming     though     seeming 
drowned. 

Twin-tulip-breasted  like  her  the  tread  of 
Whose  feet  made  music  in  Paphos  fair, 

The  world  to  me  was  not  worth  a  thread  of 
Your  brown,  ambrosial,  braided  hair. 

Mayhap  you  loved  me  at  one  time  truly, 
And  I  was  jealous,  and  you  were  proud ; 

But  mine  the  love  of  the  king  in  Thule, 

Till  death  J  and  yours — sleeps  well  in  shroud. 

So  night  came  down  like  a  sombre  raven. 
And  southward  ever  the  ship  was  borne. 

Till  glad  green  fields  and  lessening  haven 
Grew  faint  and  faded  like  ghosts  at  morn. 

As  fields  of  Heaven  eternal  blooming, 
Those  flowerful  fields  of  my  mother-laud 

In  midnight  visions  are  still  perfuming 
All  wild  waste  places  and  seas  of  sand. 
SI 


YEARS    AGO 

A.nd  still  in  seasons  of  storm  and  tlinndcr, 
In  strange  lands  under  your  land  and  mine, 

And  tliougli  our  ways  have  been  wide  asunder, 
In  calm  and  tempest  and  shade  and  shine 

Your  face  I  see  as  I  saw  the  last  time — 

As  one  borne  space-ward  on  wings  of  light, 

With  eyes  turned  back  to  a  sight  of  past  time, 
Beholds  for  ever  that  self-same  sight. 

But  scorn  has  died  on  your  lips,  and  through  yon 
Shines  ont  star-bright  an  immortal  grace. 

As  though  God  then  to  His  heaven  drew  you, 
And  sent  an  angel  to  take  your  place. 

I  ]ilucked  one  rose  from  the  tree  you  cherished. 
My  heart's  blood  ebbing  has  kept  it  rod, 

And  all  my  hopes  with  its  scent  have  perished; 
Why  mourn  them  now — are  the  dead  not  dead  ? 

And  yet,  God  knows,  as  this  rose  I  kiss,  you 
May  feel  the  kisses  across  the  sea ; 

And  soul  to  soul  for  the  larger  issue 

Your  soul  may  stand  with  the  soul  of  me, 
52 


YEARS    AGO 

Unknown  to  you — for  tho  strings  of  Being 
Are  not  so  easily  snapped  or  torn ; 

And  we  may  journey  with  eyes  unseeing 
On  paths  that  meet  in  the  years  unborn. 

Farewell,  dear  heart.     Warm  sighs  may  sever 
Ripe  lips  of  love  like  a  rose-leaf  curled, 

But  you  remain  unto  me  for  ever 
The  one  fair  woman  in  all  the  world. 


5? 


VILLANELLE 

We  said  farewell,  my  youth  and  I, 

When  all  fair  dreams  were  gone  or  going, 
And  Love's  red  lips  were  cold  and  dry. 

When  white  blooms  fell  from  tree-tops  high- 

Our  Austral  winter's  way  of  snowing — 
We  said  farewell;  my  youth  and  I. 

We  did  not  sigh — what  use  to  sigh 

When  Death  passed  as  a  mower  mowing, 
And  Love's  red  lips  were  cold  and  dry  't 

Bat  hearing  Life's  stream  thunder  by, 

That  sang  of  old  through  flowers  flowing, 
We  said  farewell,  my  youth  and  I. 
54 


VILLANELLE 

There  was  no  hope  iu  the  blue  sky. 

No  music  in  the  low  winds  blowing". 
And  Love's  red  lips  were  cold  and  dry. 

My  hair  is  black  as  yet,  then  why 

So  sad  !     I  know  not,  only  knowing 
We  said  farewell,  my  youth  and  I. 

All  are  not  buried  when  they  die ; 

Dead  souls  there  are  through  live  eyes  showin" 
When  Love's  red  lips  are  cold  and  dry. 

So,  seeing  where  the  dead  men  lie. 

Out  of  their  hearts  the  grave-flowers  growings 
We  said  farewell,  my  youth  and  I, 
When  Love's  red  lips  were  cold  and  dry. 


55 


TUE  VOICE  OF  THE  SOUL 

In  Youtli;  wlicn  through  our  veins  runs  fast 

The  bright  red  stream  of  life, 
The  Soul's  Voice  is  a  trumpet-blast 

That  calls  us  to  the  strife. 

The  Spirit  spurns  its  prison-bars, 

And  feels  with  force  endued 
To  scale  the  ramparts  of  the  stars 

And  storm  Infinitude. 

Youth  passes  ;  like  a  dungeon  grows 

The  Spirit's  house  of  clay  : 
The  voice  that  once  in  music  rose 

In  murmurs  dies  away. 
56 


THE    VOICE    OP   THE    SOUL 

But  in  the  day  when  sickness  sore 

Smites  on  the  body's  walls, 
The  Soul's  Voice  through  the  breach  once  more 

Like  to  a  trumpet  calls. 

Well  shall  it  be  with  him  who  heeds 

The  mystic  summons  then  ! 
His  after-life  with  loving  deeds 

Shall  blossom  amongst  men. 

He  shall  have  gifts — the  gift  that  feels 

The  germ  within  the  clod, 
And  hears  the  whirring  of  the  wheels 

That  turn  the  mills  of  God  ! 

The  gift  that  sees  with  glance  profound 

The  secret  soul  of  things, 
And  in  the  silence  hears  the  sound 

Of  vast  and  viewless  wings  ! 

The  veil  of  Isis  sevenfold 

To  him  as  gauze  shall  be, 
Wherethrough,  clear-eyed,  he  shall  behold 

The  Ancient  ]\lys((My. 
57 


THE    VOICE    OP   THE    SOUL 

He  sliall  do  battle  for  the  True, 
Defend  till  death  the  Right, 

With  Shoes  of  Swiftness  Wrono^  pursue, 
With  Sword  of  Sharpness  smite. 

And,  dying,  he  shall  haply  hear, 

Like  golden  trumpets  blown 
For  joy,  far  voices  sweet  and  clear — 

Soul-voices  like  his  OAvn. 

So  welcomed  may  ho  join  the  Throng 

Upon  the  Shining  Shore, 
As  one  who,  after  wandering  long, 

Returneth  home  once  more  ! 


58 


CARES 

Hav^ing  certain  cares  to  drown, 
To  the  sea  I  took  tliem  down : 

And  I  threw  them  in  the  wave. 
That  engulfed  them  like  a  grave. 

Swiftly  then  I  plied  the  oar 
With  a  light  heart  to  the  shore. 

But  behind  me  came  my  foes : 
Like  a  nine-days'  coi-pse  each  rose, 

And  (a  ghastly  sight  to  see!) 
Clutched  the  boat  and  girned  at  me  ! 

With  n  heavy  heart,  alack, 
To  the  land  I  bore  them  back. 
•if) 


CARES 

Not  in  Water  or  in  Wine 

Can  I  drown  these  cares  of  mine. 

But  some  day,  for  good  and  sure, 
I  shall  bury  them  secure, 

Where  the  soil  is  rich  and  brown, 
With  a  stone  to  keep  them  down. 

And  to  let  their  end  be  known, 
Have  my  name  carved  on  the  stone ; 

So  that  passers-by  may  say, 
"  llere  lie  cares  that  had  their  day," 

And  sometimes  by  moonlight  wan, 
I  may  sit  that  stone  upon — 

With  a  spectre's  solemn  phlegm — 
In  my  shroud,  and  laugh  at  them; 

Or — who  knows,  when  all  is  said  ? — 
Maybe  weep  liecause  they're  dead. 


6q 


PONCE  DE  LEON 

By  a  black  wharf  I  stood  lately, 
When  the  night  was  at  its  noon ; 

Keen,  malicious  stars  were  shining, 
And  a  wicked^  white-faced  moon. 

And  I  saw  a  stately  vessel, 

Built  in  fashion  quaint  and  old ; 

From  her  masthead,  in  tlie  moonlight. 
Hung  a  flag  of  faded  gold. 

Black  with  age  her  masts  and  spars  were. 
Black  with  age  her  ropes  and  rails ; 

Like  a  ghost  through  cere-cloths  gazing 
Shone  the  white  moon  through  her  sails. 
6i 


PONCK    DE    LEON 

Not  a  movement  stirred  the  stillness, 
Not  a  sound  the  silence  broke, 

Save  alone  the  livid  water 

Lapping  round  her  sides  of  oak. 

Then  to  her  unseen  commander 
Spake  I,  as  to  one  I  knew — 
"  Don  Juan  Ponce  de  Leon, 
I  have  waited  long  for  you. 

"  Take  me  with  you,  I  implore  you  ! 
Take  me  with  you  on  your  quest 
For  the  Fount  of  Youth  Eternal, 
For  the  Islands  of  the  Blest." 

Then  above  the  bulwarks  ancient 

I  beheld  a  head  arise ; 
And  the  moon  with  ghastly  glimmer 

Lit  its  sad  and  hollow  eyes. 

"  Grieved  am  I,  seiior,  and  sorry," 

Very  courteously  it  said, 
'"J'hat  I  may  not  take  you  witli  me — 

But  I  only  take  the  De:i,d. 
62 


PONCE    DE    LEO^^ 


"These  alone  may  dare  tlie  voyage, 
Tliese  aloue  sail  on  the  quest 
For  the  Fount  of  Youth  Eternal, 
For  the  Islands  of  the  Blest." 


63 


DEATH 

The  awfal  seers  of  old,  who  wrote  in  words 
Like    drops    of    blood    great    thoughts    that 

through  the  night 
Of  ages  burn,  as  eyes  of  lions  light 
Deep  jungle-dusks ;  who  smote  with  songs  like 

swords 
The  soul  of  man  on  its  most  secret  chords, 

And  made  the  heart  of  him  a  harp  to  smite, — 
Where  are  they  ?  where  that  old  man  lorn  of 
sight. 
The  king  of  song  among  these  laurelled  lords  ? 
But  where  are  all  the  ancient  singing-spheres 
That  burst  through  chaos  like   the  summer's 
breath 
Through    ice-bound    seas   where    never    seaman 
steers  ? 
Burnt  out.    Gone  down.     No  star  rcmembereth 
These  stars  and  seers  well-silenced  through  the 
years — 
The  pono-less  yenrs  of  everlasting  death. 
64 


LIFE 

What  know  we  of  the  dead,  who  say  these  things. 

Or  of  the  life  in  death  below  the  mould — 

What  of  the  mystic  laws  that  rule  the  old 
Gray  realms  beyond  our  poor  imaginings 
Where  death  is  life  ?     The  bird  with   spray-wet 
wings 

Knows  more  of  what  the  deeps  beneath  him 
hold. 

Let  be  :  warm  hearts  shall  never  wax  a-cold. 
But  burn  in  roses  through  eternal  springs  : 
For  all  the  vanished  fruit  and  flower  of  Time 

Are  flower  and  fruit  in  worlds  we  cannot  see, 
And  all  we  see  is  as  a  shadow-mime 

Of  things  unseen,  and  Time  that  comes  to  Abv 
Is  but  the  broken  echo  of  a  rhyme 

In  God's  great  epic  of  Eternity. 


65 


CHEISTMAS  IN  AUSTIIALIA 

O  DAY.  the  crown  and  crest  of  all  tlie  year  ! 

Thou  comest  not  to  us  amid  the  snows, 

But  midmost  of  the  reig'n  of  the  red  rose  ; 
Our  hearts  have  not  yet  lost  the  ancient  cheer 
That  filled  our  fathers'  simple  hearts  when  sere 

The  leaves  fell,  and  the  winds  of  Winter  f i  oze 

The  waters  wan,  and  carols  at  the  close 
Of  yester-eve  sang  the  Child  Christ  anear. 
And  so  we  hail  thee  with  a  greeting  high, 

And  drain  to  thee  a  draught  of  our  own  wine, 
Forgetful  not  beneath  this  bluer  sky 

Of  that  old  mother-land  beyond  tlie  brine. 
Whose  gray  skies  gladden  as  thou  drawest  nigh, 

0  day  of  God's  good-will  the  seal  and  sign  ! 


66 


QUESTIONS 

Soul,  dost  thou  sliuclder  at  the  narrow  tomb  '{ 
Heart,  dost  thou  dread  to  moulder  in  the  dust — 
To  meet  the  fate  that  all  things  mortal  must, 
Strength  in  its  pride,  and  beauty  in  its  bloom  ? 
What  have  ye  done  to  merit  nobler  doom  ? 
How  used  one  life  that  ye  for  more  should  lust  ? 
Time  in  his  course  doth  all  things  downward 
thrust : 
The  unborn  generations  wait  for  room  ! 
Blind  we  were  born,  blind  die  :  yet  we  must  still 
Take  God  to   task  with   Whither?  Whence? 
and  Why  ? 
What  if  God,  giving  us  our  wish  and  will, 

Said,  "  Judge   thyself  ''  to  each  !      Who  dares 
reply  ?  . 
He  knows  the  end  wlio  made  the  perfect  plan — 
Hell  were  too  small  if  man  were  judged  by  man. 
67 


THE  GODS 

Last  nif^htj  as  one  wlio  hears  a  tragic  jest, 

I  woke  from  dreams,  lialf-laugliing,    half  iu 

tears ; 
Methought  that  I  had  journeyed  in  the  spheres 
And  stood  upon  the  Planet  of  the  Blest ! 
And  found  thereon  a  folk  who  prayed  with  zest 
Exceeding,  and  through  all  their  painful  years, 
Like  strong  souls  struggled  on,  ^mid  hopes  and 
fears ; 
''Where  dwell  the  gods,"  they  said,  "we  shall 

find  rest." 
The  gods?  What  gods,  I  thought,  are  these  who  so 
Inspire  their  worshippers  with  faith  that  flowers 
Immortal,  and  who  make  them  keep  aglow 

The  flames  for  ever  on  their  altar-towers? 
"  Where  dwell  these  gods  of  yours  ?"  I  asked — 
and  lo  ! 
They  pointed  upward  to  this  earth  of  ours  ! 


68 


THE  GLEANER 

Methought  I  came  unto  a  world-wide  plain 
Where  souls  stood  thick  as  grain  at  harvest- 
tide, 
And  many  reapers,  full  of  pious  pride, 
With   rapid   scythe-sweeps   mowed   them    down 

amain  ; 
And  zealous  binders  bound  them  up  like  grain 
In  sheaves  :  the  reapers  at  each  onward  stride 
Trod   many   souls   down.     These  the  binders 
eyed 
With  careless  looks  or  glances  of  disdain. 
But,  following  slow,  a  patient  Gleaner  came 
And  gathered  all  the  Binders  cast  aside. 
And  made   fair  sheaves  thereof.     Whereat  I 
cried  : 
"  Why  gather  these  ?  Who  art  thou  ?  Name  thy 
name !  " 
The  Gleaner  in  a  sad,  sweet  voice  replied : 
"  The  outcasts'  Saviour — for  these,  too,  I  died." 
69 


LOVE 

Love  is  tlie  sunlight  of  the  soul, 
That,  shining  on  the  silken-tressed  head 
Of  her  we  love,  around  it  seems  to  shed 

A  golden  angel-aureole. 

And  all  her  ways  seem  sweeter  ways 
Than  those  of  other  women  in  that  light : 
She  has  no  portion  with  the  pallid  night, 

But  18  a  part  of  all  fair  days. 

Joy  goes  where  she  goes,  and  good  dreams — 
Her  smile  is  tender  as  an  old  romance 
Of  Love  that  dies  not,  and  her  soft  eye's  glance 

Like  sunshine  set  to  music  seems. 
70 


LOVE 

Queen  of  our  fate  is  she,  but  crowned 
VV^ith  purple  hearts-ease  for  her  womanhood. 
There  is  no  place  so  poor  where  she  has  stood 

But  evermore  is  holy  ground. 

An  angel  from  the  heaven  above 
Would  not  be  fair  to  us  as  she  is  fair : 
She  holds  us  in  a  mesh  of  silken  hair. 

This  one  sweet  woman  whom  we  love. 

We  pray  thee^  Love,  our  souls  to  steep 
In  dreams  wherein  thy  myrtle  flowereth; 
So  when  the  rose  leaves  shiver,  feeling  Death 

Pass  by,  we  may  remain  asleep  : 

Asleep,  with  poppies  in  our  hands. 
From  all  the  world  and  all  its  cares  apart — 
(yheek  close  to  cheek,  heart  beating  against  heart, 

Wliile  through  Life's  sandglass  run  the  sands. 


71 


PASSION  FLOWER 

Choose  who  aviII  the  wiser  part — 
I  have  hehl  hei*  licart  to  heart; 

And  have  felt  lier  heart-strino-s  stirred, 
And  her  soul's  still  singing  heard 

For  one  golden-haloed  hour 

Of  Love's  life  the  passion-fh)wer. 

So  the  world  ma}'  roll  or  rest — 
I  have  tasted  of  its  best  ; 

And  shall  laugh  while  I  have  breath 
At  thy  dart  and  thee,  0  Death  ! 


72 


TO  MY  LADY 

When  the  tender  hand  of  Kight 

Like  a  rose-Jeaf  falls 
Softly  on  your  starry  eyes, 

When  the  Sleep-God  calls. 
And  the  gate  of  dreams  is  wide, 

Wide  the  painted  halls, 
Dream  the  dream  I  send  to  you 

Through  your  spirit's  walls  ! 

Dream  a  lowly  lover  came. 

Lady  fair  to  woo  ; 
Dream  that  I  the  lover  was. 

And  the  lady — you; 
Dream  your  answer  was  a  kiss, 

Warm  as  summer  dew — 
Waking,  in  the  rosy  dawn, 

Let  the  dream  be  true  ! 
73 


THE  HAWTHORN 

By  the  road^  near  lier  f;itlicr's  dwelling, 
Tliere  growetli  a  hawthorn  tree : 

Its  blossoms  are  fair  and  fragrant 
As  tho  love  that  I  cast  from  me. 

It  is  all  a-bloom  this  morniixg 

In  the  sunny  silentness, 
And  grows  by  the  roadside,  radiant 

As  a  bride  in  her  bridal  dress. 

But  ah  me  !  at  sight  of  its  blossoms 
No  pleasant  memones  start; : 

I  see  but  the  thorns  beneath  them — 
And  the  thorns  they  pierce  my  heart. 


74 


SPUma  DIRGE 

A  CHILD  came  singing  tlirougli  tlie  dusty  town 
A  song  so  sweet  tliat  all  men  stayed  to  hear, 
Forgetting  for  a  space  their  ancient  fear 

Of  evil  days  and  death  and  fortune's  frown. 

She  sang  of  Winter  dead  and  Spring  new-born 
In  the  green  fields  beyond  the  far  hills'  bound ; 
And  how  this  fair  Spring,   coming  blossom- 
crowned, 

Would  cross  the  city's  threshold  on  the  morn. 

And  each  caged  bird  in  every  house  anigh, 
Even  as  she  sang,  caught  up  the  glad  refrain 
Of  Love  and  Hope  and  fair  days  come  again, 

Till  all  who  heard  forgot  they  had  to  die. 


SPRING    DIRGE 

And  all  the  ghosts  of  buried  woes  wore  laid 
That  heard  the  song  of  this  sweet  sorceress ; 
The  Past  grew  to  a  dream  of  old  distress^ 

And  merry  were  the  hearts  of  man  and  maid. 

So,  at  the  first  faint  hlush  of  tender  dawn, 

Spring   stole  with  noiseless  steps  through  tlie 

gray  gloom. 
And  men  knew  only  by  a  strange  perfuuie 

That  she  had  softly  entered  and  withdrawn. 

But  ah  !  the  lustre  of  her  violet  eyes 

Was  dimmed  with  tears  for  her  sweet  sinL-'in*"- 

maid. 
Whose  voice  would  sound  no  more  in  shine  or 
shade 
To  charm  men's  souls  at  set  of  sun  or  rise. 

For  there,  Avitli  doAvs  of  dawn  upon  her  lialr, 
Like  a  fair  flower  plucked  and  flung  away, 
Dead  in  the  street  the  little  maiden  lay 

Who  gave  new  life  to  hearts  nigh  dead  of  care. 
76 


SPRING    DIRGE 

Alas  !  must  tliis  be  still  the  bitter  doom 
Awaiting  those,  the  finer-souled  of  earth, 
Who  make  for  men  a  morning'  song  of  mirth 

While  yet  the  birds  are  dumb  amid  the  gloom  ? 

They  walk  on  thorny  ways  with  feet  unshod. 
Sing  one  last  song,  and  die  as  that  song  dies. 
There  is  no  human  hand  to  close  their  eyes. 

And  very  heavy  is  the  hand  of  God. 


77 


FEAGMENTS 

Tlioise  hrolitiii  lines  for  "pardon  crave  ; 

I  cannot  end  the  song  with  art : 
My  grief  is  gray  and  old — her  grave 

Is  dug  so  deep  within  my  heart. 

I. — HER    LAST    DAY 

It  was  a  day  of  sombre  heat : 
The  still,  dense  air  was  void  of  sound 
And  life;  no  wing  of  bird  did  beat 
A  little  breeze  through  it — the  ground 
Was  like  live  ashes  to  the  feet. 
Prom  the  black  hills  that  loomed  around 
The  valley  many  a  sudden  spire 
Of  flame  shot  up,  and  writhed,  and  curled. 
And  sank  again  for  heaviness  : 
78 


PKAGMENTS 

And  heavy  seemed  to  men  that  day 

The  burden  of  the  weary  world. 

For  evermore  the  sky  did  press 

Closer  upon  the  earth  that  lay 

Fainting  beneath,  as  one  in  dire 

Dreams  of  the  night,  upon  whose  breast 

Sits  a  black  phantom  of  unrest 

That  holds  him  down.     The  earth  and  sky 

Appeared  unto  the  troubled  eye 

A  roof  of  smoke,  a  floor  of  fire. 

There  was  no  water  in  the  land. 
Deep  in  the  night  of  each  ravine 
Men,  vainly  searching  for  it,  found 
Dry  hollows  in  the  gaping  ground. 
Like  sockets  where  clear  eyes  had  been. 
Now  burnt  out  with  a  burning  brand. 
There  was  no  water  in  the  laud 
But  the  salt  sea  tide,  that  did  roll 
Far  past  the  places  where,  till  then, 
The  sweet  streams  met  and  flung  it  back ; 
The  beds  of  little  brooks,  that  stole 
79 


FRAGMENTS 

In  spring-time  down  eacli  ferny  glen. 
And  rippled  over  rock  and  sand. 
Were  drier  tlian  a  cattle-track. 
A  dull,  strange  languor  of  disease, 
TJiat  ever  with  the  heat  increased. 
Fell  upon  man,  and  bird,  and  beast ; 
The  tliin-flanked  cattle  gasped  for  breath  ; 
The  birds  dropped  dead  from  drooping  trees ; 
And  men,  who  drank  the  muddy  lees 
From  each  near-dry  though  deep-dug  well, 
Grew  faint ;  and  over  all  things  fell 
A  heavy  stupor,  dank  as  Death. 


Fierce  Nature,  glaring  with  a  face 
Of  savage  scorn  at  my  despair, 
Withered  my  heart.     From  cone  to  base 
The  hills  were  full  of  hollow  eyes 
That  rayed  out  darkness,  dead  and  dull ; 
Gray  rocks  grinned  under  ridges  bare, 
Like  dry  teeth  in  a  mouldered  skull; 
And  ghastly  gum-tree  trunks  did  loom 
80 


FRAGMENTS 

Out  of  black  clefts  and  rifts  of  gloom, 

As  sheeted  spectres  tliat  arise 

From  yawning  graves  at  dead  of  night 

To  fill  the  living  with  affright ; 

And,  like  to  witches  foul  that  bare 

Their  withered  arms^  and  bend,  and  cast 

Dread  curses  on  the  sleeping  lands 

In  awful  legends  of  the  past, 

Red  gums,  with  outstretched  bloody  hands. 

Shook  maledictions  in  tlie  air. 

Fear  was  around  me  everywhere  : 
The  wrinkled  forelieads  of  the  rocks 
Frowned  on  me,  and  methought  I  saw — ■ 
Deep  down  in  dismal  gulfs  of  awe, 
Where     gi'ay    death-adders     have     their 

lair. 
With  the  fiend-bat,  the  flying-fox, 
And  dim  sun-rays,  down-groping  far. 
Pale  as  a  dead  man's  fingers  are — 
The  grisly  image  of  Decay, 
That  at  the  root  of  Life  doth  gnaw, 
8i 


FRAGMENTS 


Sitting  alone  upon  a  tlirone 

Of  rotting  skull  and  bleacliing  bone. 


"  Til  ere  is  an  end  to  all  our  griefs  : 
Little  tlie  red  worm  of  the  grave 
Will  vex  us  when  our  days  are  done." 
So  changed  my  thought  :  up-gazing  then 
On  gray-piled  stones  that  seemed  the  cairns 
Of  dead  and  long-forgotten  chiefs — 
The  men  of  old,  the  poor  wild  men 
Who,  under  dim  lights,  fought  a  brave. 
Sad  fight  of  Life,  where  hope  was  none. 
In  the  vague,  voiceless,  far-oif  years — 
It  changed  again  to  present  pain, 
And  I  saw  Sorrow  everywhere  : 
In  blackened  trees  and  rust-red  ferns, 
Blasted  by  bush-fires  and  the  sun ; 
And  by  the  salt-flood — salt  as  tears — 
Where  the  wild  apple-trees  hung  low, 
And  evermore  stooped  down  to  stare 
At  their  drowned  shadows  in  the  wave, 

83 


FRAGMENTS 


Wringing  their  knotted  hands  of  woe  ; 
And  the  dark  swamp-oaks,  row  on  row, 
Lined  either  bank — a  sombre  train 
Of  mourners  with  down-streaming  hair. 

II. — SUNSET 

The  day  and  its  delights  are  done  j 
So  all  delights  and  days  expire : 

Down  in  the  dim,  sad  West  the  sun 
Is  dying  like  a  dying  fire. 

The  fiercest  lances  of  his  light 

Are  spent ;  I  watch  him  droop  and  die 
Like  a  great  king  who  falls  in  fight ; 

None  dared  the  duel  of  his  eye 
Living,  but,  now  his  eye  is  dim, 
The  eyes  of  all  may  stare  at  him. 

How  lovely  in  his  strength  at  morn 
He  orbed  along  the  burning  blue  ! 
The  blown  gold  of  his  flying  hair 
Was  tangled  in  green-tressed  trees, 
83 


FRAGMENTS 

And  netted  in  the  rivei-  sand 

In  gleaming  links  of  amber  clear; 

But  all  his  shining  locks  are  sliorn, 

His  brow  of  its  bright  crown  is  bare^ 

The  golden  sceptre  leaves  his  hand, 

And  deeper,  darker,  grows  the  hue 

Of  the  dim  purple  draperies 

And  cloudy  banners  round  his  bier. 

0  beautiful,  rose-hearted  dawn  ! — 
0  splendid  noon  of  gold  and  blue  ! — 
Is  this  wan  glimmer  all  of  you  ? 
Where  are  the  blush  and  bloom  ye  gave 
To  laughing  land  and  smiling  sea? — 
The  swift  lights  that  did  flash  and  «hi\er 
In  diamond  rain  upon  the  river, 
And  set  a  star  in  each  blue  wave  ? 
Where  are  the  merry  lights  and  shadows 
That  danced  through  wood  and  over  lawn, 
And  flew  across  the  dewy  meadows 
Like  white  nymphs  chased  by  satyr  lovers  ? 
Faded  and  perished  utterly. 
84 


FRAGMENTS 

All  delicate  and  all  rich  colour 
In  flower  and  cloud,  on  lawn  and  lea, 
On  butterfly,  and  bird,  and  bee, 
A  little  space  and  all  are  gone — 
And  darkness,  like  a  raven,  hovers 
Above  the  death-bed  of  the  day. 


So,  when  the  long,  last  night  draws  on, 
And  all  the  world  grows  ghastly  gray. 
We  see  our  beautiful  and  brave 
Wither,  and  watch  with  heavy  sighs 
The  life-light  dying  in  their  eyes, 
The  love-light  slowly  fading  out, 
Leaving  no  faint  hope  in  their  place. 
But  only  on  each  dear  wan  face 
The  shadow  of  a  weary  doubt, 
The  ashen  pallor  of  the  grave. 

0  gracious  morn  and  golden  noon  ! 
With  what  fair  dreams  did  ye  depart — 
Beloved  so  well  and  lost  so  soon  1 
8S 


FEAGMENT8 

I  could  uot  fold  you  to  my  breast : 

I  could  uot  bide  you  in  my  lie  art ; 

1  saw  the  watchers  in  the  West — 

Sad,  shrouded  shapes,  with  hands  that  wring 

And  phantom  fingers  beckoning  ! 

III. YEARS    AFTER 

Fade  off  the  ridges,  rosy  light. 
Fade  slowly  from  the  last  gray  height. 
And  leave  no  gloomy  cloud  to  grieve 
The  heart  of  this  enchanted  eve  ! 

All  things  beneath  the  still  sky  seem 
Bound  by  the  spell  of  a  sweet  dream  ; 
In  the  dusk  forest,  di'eamingly. 
Droops  slowly  down  each  plumed  head; 
The  river  flowing  softly  by 
Dreams  of  the  sea;  the  quiet  sea 
Dreams  of  the  unseen  stars  ;  and  I 
Am  dreaming  of  the  dreamless  dead. 

The  river  has  a  silken  sheen. 
But  red  rays  of  the  sunset  stain 
86 


PEAGMENTS 

Its  pictures^  from  the  steep  shore  c;iu<,''hfc, 

Till  shades  of  rock,  and  fern,  and  tree 

Glow  like  the  figures  on  a  pane 

Of  some  old  church  by  twilight  seen, 

Or  like  the  rich  devices  wrought 

In  mediaeval  tapestry. 

All  lonely  in  a  drifting  boat 
Through  shine  and  shade  I  float  and  float, 
Di'saraing  and  dreaming,  till  I  seem 
Part  of  the  picture  and  the  dream. 

There  is  no  sound  to  break  the  spell. 
No  voice  of  bird  or  stir  of  bough ; 
Only  the  lisp  of  waters  wreathing 
In  little  ripples  round  the  prow. 
And  a  low  air,  like  Silence  breathing, 
That  hardly  dusks  the  sleepy  swell 
Wlioreon  I  float  to  that  strange  deep 
That  sighs  upon  the  shores  of  Sleep. 


87 


FRAGMENTS 

But  in  the  silent  heaven  blooming 
Behold  the  wondrous  sunset  flower 
That  blooms  and  fades  within  the  hour — 

The  flower  of  fantasy,  perfuming 
With  subtle  melody  of  scent 
The  blue  aisles  of  the  firmament ! 

For  colour,  music,  scent,  are  one; 

From  deeps  of  air  to  airless  heights, 
Lo  !  how  he  sweeps,  the  splendid  sun. 

His  burning  lyre  of  many  lights  ! 

See  the  clear  golden  lily  blowing  ! 
It  shines  as  shone  thy  gentle  soul, 
O  my  most  sweet,  when  from  the  goal 
Of  life,  far-gazing,  thou  didst  see — 
While  Death  still  feared  to  touch  thine  eyes, 

Where  such  immortal  light  was  glowing — 
The  vision  of  eternity. 
The  pearly  gates  of  Paradise  ! 

Now  richer  hues  the  skies  illume  : 
The  pale  gold  blushes  into  bloom, 
88 


FRAGMENTS 

Delicate  as  the  flowering 

Of  first  love  in  the  tender  spring 

Of  Life,  when  love  is  wizardry 

That  over  narrow  days  can  throw 

A  glamour  and  a  glory  !  so 
Did  thine,  my  Beautiful,  for  me 

So  long  ago ;  so  long  ago. 

So  long  ago  !  so  long  ago  ! 

Ah,  who  can  Love  and  Grief  estrange  ? 
Or  Memory  and  Sorrow  part  ? 

Lo,  in  the  West  another  change — 

A  deeper  glow  :  a  rose  of  fire  : 

A  rose  of  passionate  desire 
Lone  burning  in  a  lonely  heart. 

A  lonely  heart;  a  lonely  flood. 
The  wave  that  glassed  her  gleaming  head 
And  smiling  passed,  it  does  not  know 
That  gleaming  head  lies  dark  and  lov/  ; 
The  myrtle-tree  that  bends  above, 
I  pray  that  it  may  early  bud. 
For  under  its  green  boughs  sat  we — • 
89 


FRAGMENTS 

Wo  twain,  Ave  only,  hand  in  hand, 
When  Love  was  lord  of  all  the  land — 
It  does  not  know  that  she  is  dead 
And  all  is  over  now  with  Love, 
Is  over  now  with  Love  and  me. 

Once  more,  once  more,  O  shining  years 

Gone  by ;  once  more,  0  vanished  days 

Whose  hours  flew  by  on  iris-wings, 

Come  back  and  bring  my  love  to  me  ! 

My  voice  faints  down  the  wooded  ways 

And  dies  along  the  darkling  flood. 

The  past  is  past ;  I  cry  in  vain. 

For  when  did  Death  an  answer  deign 

To  Love's  heart-broken  questionings  ? 

The  dead  are  deaf ;  dust  chokes  their  ears ; 

Only  the  rolling  river  hears 

Far  off  the  calling  of  the  sea — 

A  shiver  strikes  through  all  my  blood, 

Mine  eyes  are  full  of  sudden  tears. 


90 


PRAQMENTS 

The  shadows  gather  over  all. 

The  yalley,  and  the  mouutains  ohl ; 

Shadow  on  shadow  fast  they  fall 

On  glooming'  green  and  waning  gold  ; 

And  on  my  heart  tlioy  gather  drear. 

Damp  as  with  grave-damps,  dark  with  fear. 


O  Sorrow,  Sorrow,  couldst  thou  leave  me 
Not  one  brief  hour  to  dream  alone  ? 

Hast  thou  not  all  my  days  to  grieve  me  ? 
My  nights,  are  they  not  all  thine  own  ? 

Thou  hauntest  me  at  morning  light, 

Thou  blackenest  the  white  moonbeams ; 

A  hollow  voice  at  noon  ;  at  night 

A  crowned  ghost,  sitting  on  a  throne, 
Ruling  the  kingdom  of  my  dreams. 


Maker  of  men.  Thou  gavest  breath, 
Thou  gavest  love  to  all  that  live. 
Thou  rendest  loves  and  lives  apart; 
91 


FRAGMENTS 

Allwise  art  Thou ;  who  qnestioneth 
Thy  will,  or  who  can  read  Thy  heart  ? 
But  couldst  Thou  not  in  mercy  give 
A  sign  to  us — one  little  spark 
Of  sure  hope  that  the  end  of  all 
Is  not  concealed  beneath  the  pall, 
Or  wound  up  with  the  winding-sheet  ? 
Who  heedeth  aught  the  preacher  saith 
When  eyes  wax  dim,  and  limbs  grow  stark, 
And  fear  sits  on  the  darkened  bed  ? 
The  dying  man  turns  to  the  wall. 
What  hope  have  we  above  our  dead  ? — 
Tense  fingers  clutching  at  the  dark, 
And  hopeless  hands  that  vainly  beat 
Against  the  iron  doors  of  Death  1 


92 


"UNTO  THIS  LAST" 

They  brought  my  fair  love  out  upon  a  bier — 

Out  from  tlie  dwelling   that  her  smile  maJe 

sweet, 
Out  from  the  life  that  her  life  made  complete, 

Into  the  glitter  of  the  garish  street — 

And  no  man  wept,  save  I,  for  that  dead  dear. 

And  then  the  dark  procession  wound  along, 
Like  a  black  serpent  with  a  snow-white  bird 
Held  in  its  fangs.     I  think  God  said  a  word 
To  death,  as  He  in  His  chill  heaven  heard 

Her  voice  so  sweeter  than  His  seraph's  song. 

And  so  Death  took  away  her  flower-sweet  breath 
One  darkest  day  of  days  in  a  dark  year,  [dear 
And  brought  to  that  strong  God  who  had  no 
My  own  dear  love.     Ah,  closed  eyes  without 
peer! 
Ah,  red  lips  pressed  on  the  blue  lips  of  Death  ! 
93 


THE    NIGHTINGALE 

When  the  moon  a  golJen-pale 
Lustre  on  my  casement  flings, 

An  enchanted  nightingale 
In  the  haunted  silence  sings. 

Strange  the  song — its  wondrous  words 

Taken  from  the  primal  tongue, 
Known  to  men,  and  beasts,  and  birds, 

When  the  care-worn  woi-ld  was  young- 
Listening  low,  I  hear  the  stars 

Through  her  strains  move  solemnly, 
And  on  lonesome  banks  and  bars 

Hear  the  sobbing  of  the  sea. 
94 


THE    NIGHTINGALE 

And  my  memory  dimly  gropes 
Hints  to  gather  from   her  song 

Of  forgotten  fears  and  hopes, 
Joys  and  griefs  forgotten  long. 

And  I  feel  once  more  the  strife 
Of  a  passion,  fierce  and  grand. 

That,  in  some  long-vanished  life. 
Held  my  soul  at  its  command. 

Ah,  my  Love,  in  robes  of  white 

Standing  by  a  moonlit  sea, 
Like  a  lily  of  the  night, 

Hast  thou  quite  forgotten  me  ? 

Dost  thou  never  dream  at  whiles 
Of  that  silent,  templed  vale, 

And  the  dim  wood  in  whose  aisles 
Sang  a  secret  nightingale  ? 

Whither  hast  thou  gone  ?     What  star 
Holds  thy  spirit  pure  and  fine  ? 

In  this  world  below  there  are 

None  like  thee  :  and  thou  wert  mine  ! 
95 


THE    NWHTINGALE 

For  a  season  all  thing-s  last, 

Love  and  Joy,  and  Life  and  Death  ; 
Thou  art  portion  of  my  past, 

I  of  thine,  whilst  Time  draws  breath. 

Fades  the  nioouliglit  golden-pale, 
And  the  bird  has  ceased  to  siiifr — 

Ah,  it  was  no  nightingale, 
But  my  heart — remembering. 


06 


THE  TWO  KEYS 

There  was  a  Boy^  long  years  ago, 
Who  hour  by  hour  awako  would  lie. 

And  watch  the  white  moon  gliding  slow 
Along  her  pathway  in  the  sky. 

And  every  night  as  thus  he  lay 
Entranced  in  lonely  fantasy, 

Borne  swiftly  on  a  bright  moon-ray 
There  came  to  him  a  Golden  Key. 

And  with  that  Golden  Key  the  Boy 
Oped  every  night  a  magic  door 

That  to  a  melody  of  Joy 

Turned  on  its  hinges  evermore. 
97 


THE    TWO    KEYS 

Then,  trembling  with  delight  ami  awe, 
When  he  the  charmed  threshold  crossed, 

A  radiant  corridor  he  saw — 

Its  end  in  dazzling  distance  lost. 

Great  windows  shining  in  a  roAV 
Lit  up  the  wondrous  corridor, 

And  each  its  own  rich  light  did  throw 
In  stream  resplendent  on  the  floor. 

One  window  showed  the  Boy  a  scene 

Within  a  forest  old  and  dim, 
Where  fairies  danced  upon  the  green 

And  kissed  their  little  hands  to  him. 

Sweet  strains  of  elfin  harp  and  horn 
lie  heard  so  clearly  sounding  there, 

Aud  he  to  WonderLuid  was  borne 
And  breathed  its  soft  enchanted  air. 

Til  on,  passing  onward  with  the  years, 
He  turned  his  back  on  Elf  and  Fay, 

And  sadly  sweet,  as  if  in  tears. 
The  fairy  music  died  away. 
98 


THE    TWO    KEYS 

The  second  window  held  him  long: 

It  looked  npon  a  field  of  fight 
Whereon  the  countless  hordes  of  Wrong 

Fought  fiercely  with  the  friends  of  Eight. 

Audj  lo  !  upon  that  fateful  field, 

Where  cannon  thundered,  banners  streamed, 
And  rushing  squadrons  rocked  and  reeled. 

His  sword  a  star  of  battle  gleamed. 

And  when  the  hordes  of  Wrong  lay  still. 
And  that  great  fight  was  fought  and  won. 

He  stood,  bright-eyed,  npon  a  hill, 
His  white  plume  shining  in  the  sun. 

A  glorious  vision  !  yet  behind 

He  left  it  with  its  scarlet  glow, 
And  faint  and  far  upon  the  wind 

He  heard  the  martial  trumpets  blow. 

For  to  his  listening  ear  was  borne 

A  music  more  entrancing  far 
Than  strains  of  elfin  harp  or  horn, 

More  thrilling  than  the  trump  of  war. 
99 


THE    TWO    KEYS 

No  longer  as  a  dreamy  boy 

He  trod  the  radiant  corridor  : 
His  young  man's  heart  presaged  a  joy 

More  dear  than  all  the  joys  of  yore. 

To  that  third  window,  half  in  awe, 

He  moved,  and  slowly  raised  his  eyes — 

And  was  it  earth  grown  young  he  saw  ? 
Or  was  it  man's  lost  Paradise  ? 

For  all  the  flowers  that  ever  bloomed 
Upon  the  earth,  and  all  the  rare 

Sweet  Loveliness  by  Time  entombed, 

Seemed  blushing,  blooming,  glowing  thero. 

And  every  mellow-throated  bn-d 

That  ever  sang  the  trees  among 
Seemed  singing  there,  with  one  sweet  word — 
"  Love  !  Love  !"  on  every  little  tongue. 

Then  he  by  turns  grew  rosy-red, 
And  he  by  turns  grew  passion-pale. 
*'  Sweet  Love !"  the  lark  sang  overhead, 

"  Sweet  Love!"  sanar  Love's  own  nio^htinorale. 


THE    TWO    KEYS 

In  mid-heart  of  the  hawthorn-tree 

The  thrush  sang  all  its  buds  to  bloom ; 
"Love!  Love!  Love!  Love!  Sweet  Love,"  sann" 
he 
Amidst  the  soft  green  sun-flecked  gloom. 


She  stood  upon  a  lilied  lawn. 

With  dreamful  eyes  that  gazed  afar : 

A  maiden  tender  as  the  Dawn 
And  lovely  as  the  Morning  Star. 

She  stooped  and  kissed  him  on  the  brow, 
And  in  a  low,  sweet  voice  said  she  : 
"  I  am  this  country's  queen — and  thou  ?" 
"  I  am  thy  vassal,"  murmured  he. 

She  hid  him  with  her  hair  gold-red. 
That  flowed  like  sunshine  to  her  knee  ; 

She  kissed  him  on  the  lips,  and  said  : 

"  Dear  heart !  "I've  waited  long  for  thof."' 

lOI 


THE    TWO    KEYS 

And,  oh,  she  was  so  fair,  so  fair, 
So  gracious  was  her  beauty  bright, 

Around  her  the  enamovired  air 
Pulsed  tremulously  with  delight. 

In  passionate  melody  did  melt 

Bird-voices,  scent  of  flower  and  tree, 

And  he  within  his  bosom  felt 
The  piercing  thorn  of  ecstasy. 


The  years  passed  by  in  dark  and  light, 
In  storm  and  shine;  the  man  grew  old. 

Yet  never  more  by  day  or  night 

There  came  to  him  the  Key  of  Gold. 

But  ever,  ere  the  great  sun  flowers 
In  gold  above  the  sky's  blue  rim, 

All  in  the  dark  and  lonely  hours 
There  comes  an  Iron  Key  to  him. 

And  with  that  key  he  opes  a  wide 

And  gloomy  door — the  Door  of  Fato — 

I02 


THE    TWO    KEYS 

That  makes,  whene'er  it  swings  aside, 
A  music  sad  and  desolate, 

A  music  sad  from  saddest  source  : 
He  sees  beside  the  doorway  set 

The  chill,  gray  figure  of  Remorse, 
The  pale,  cold  image  of  Regret. 

For  all  the  glory  and  the  glow 

Of  Life  are  passed,  and  dead,  and  gone 
The  Light  and  Life  of  Long  Ago 

Are  memories  only — moonlight  wan. 


There  is  no  man  of  woman  born 
So  brave,  so  good,  so  wise  but  ho 

Must  sometimes  in  a  night  forlorn 
Take  up  and  use  the  Iron  Key. 


103 


LACHESIS 

Over  a  slow-dying  firOj 

Dreaming  old  dreams,  I  am  sitting ; 
The  flames  leap  up  and  expire; 

A  woman  sits  opposite  knitting. 

I've  taken  a  Fate  to  wife ; 

Slie  knits  with  a  half-smile  mocking 
Me,  and  m}^  dreams,  and  my  life, 

All  into  a  worsted  stockinGf. 


104 


SYMBOLS 

'Tis  said  tliat  tlie  Passion  Flower, 
With  its  fig'ares  of  spear  and  sword 

And  hammer  and  nails,  is  a  symbol 
Of  the  Woe  of  our  Blessed  Lord. 

So  still  in  the  Heart  of  Beantj 

Has  been  hidden,  since  Life  drew  breath, 
The  sword  and  the  spear  of  Anguish, 

And  the  hammer  and  nails  of  Death. 


loS 


AT  THE  OPERA 

The  cni'fcain  rose — the  play  began — • 
The  limelight  on  the  gay  garhs  shone  ; 
Yet  carelessly  I  gazed  upon 

The  painted  players^  maid  and  man^ 
As  one  with  idle  eyes  who  sees 
The  marble  figures  on  a  frieze. 

Ijong  lark-notes  clear  the  first  act  close, 
So  the  soprano  :  then  a  hush — ■ 
The  tonor^  tender  as  a  thrush  ; 

Then  loud  and  high  the  chorus  rose, 
Till,  with  a  sudden  rush  and  strong, 
It  ended  in  a  storm  of  song. 

The  curtain  fell — the  music  died — 

The  lights  grew  bright,  revealing  there 
The  flash  of  jewelled  fingers  fair, 
io6 


AT   THE    OPERA 

And  wreaths  of  pearls  on  brows  of  pride  ; 
Then,  with  a  quick-flushed  cheek,  I  turned, 
And  into  mine  her  dark  eyes  burned. 

Such  eyes  but  once  a  man  may  see, 
And,  seeing  once,  his  fancy  dies 
To  thought  of  any  other  eyes : 

So  shadow-soft,  thoy  seemed  to  be 

Twin  haunted  lakes,  lit  by  the  gleams 
Of  a  mysterious  moon  of  dreams. 

Silk  lashes  veiled  their  liquid  light 
With  such  a  shade  as  tall  reeds  fling 
From  the  lake-marge  at  sunsetting : 

Their  darkness  might  have  hid  the  niglit — 
Yet  whoso  saw  their  glance  would  say 
Night  dreamt  therein,  and  saw  the  day. 

Long  looked  I  at  them,  wondering 
What  tender  memories  were  hid 
Beneath  each  blue-veined  lily-lid ; 

What  hopes  of  joys  the  years  would  bring; 
What  griefs  ?  In  vain  :  I  might  not  guess 
The  secret  of  their  silentness. 
107 


AT   THE    OPERA 

What  of  her  face  ?     Her  face,  meseems, 
Was  such  as  painters  see  who  muse 
By  moonlii^ht  in  dim  avenues, 

Yet  cannot  paint ;  or  as  in  dreams. 
Young  poets  see,  but,  when  they  try 
To  limn  in  verse  are  dumb — so  I. 

Yet  well  I  know  that  I  have  seen 
That  sweet  face  in  the  long  ago 
In  a  rose-bower — well  I  know — 

Laughing  the  singing  leaves  between, 
In  that  strange  land  of  rose  and  rhyme- 
The  land  of  Once  upon  a  Time. 

O  unknown  sweet,  so  sweetly  known, 
I  know  not  what  your  name  may  be — 
Madonna  is  your  name  for  me — 

Nor  where  your  lines  in  life  are  thrown ; 
But  soul  sees  soul — what  is  the  rest  ? 
A  passing  phantom  at  the  best. 

Did  your  young  bosom  never  glow 

To  love  ?  or  burns  your  heart  beneath 
As  burns  the  rosebud  in  its  sheath  ? 
1 08 


AT    THE    OPERA 

I  neither  know  nor  wish  to  know  : 
I  smell  the  rose  upon  the  tree ; 
Who  will  may  pluck  and  wear,  for  me — 

May  wear  the  rose,  and  watch  it  die. 
And,  leaf  by  red  leaf,  fade  and  fall. 
Till  there  be  nothing  left  at  all 

Of  its  sweet  loveliness ;  but  I 
Love  it  so  well,  I  leave  it  free — 
The  scent  alone  I  take  with  me  ! 

As  one  Avho  visits  sacred  spots 

Bj-ings  tokens  back,  so  I  from  you 
A  glance,  a  smile,  a  rapture  new  ! 

And  these  are  my  forget-me-nots  ! 
1  take  from  you  bat  only  these — 
Give  all  the  rest  to  whom  you  please. 

Sweet  eyes,  your  glance  a  light  shall  cast 
On  me,  when  dreaded  ghosts  arise 
Of  dead  regrets  with  shrouded  eyes. 

And  phantoms  of  the  perished  past. 

Old  thoughts,  old  hopes,  and  old  desire 
Gather  around  my  lonely  fire  ! 
109 


AT   THE    OPERA 

Farewell !  In  rhyme,  I  kiss  your  hand — 
Kiss  not  unsweet,  although  unheard  ! — 
This  is  our  secret — say  no  word — 

That  I  have  been  in  Fairyland, 

And  seen  for  one  brief  raoinont's  space 
The  Queen  Titania  face  to  face. 


xio 


NE^RA'S  WREATH 

Ne.^s^ra  crowns  me  with  a  purple  wreatli 

That  she  with  her  own  dainty  hands  did  twine ; 

(lold-hearted  blossoms  and  blue  buds  in  sheath, 
Mingled  with  veined  green  leaves  of  the  wild 
vine. 

Tlien,  bending  down  her  bright  head — ah,  too 
nigh ! — 

She  asks  me  for  a  song  :  the  daylight  dies : 
The  song  is  still  unwritten  :   still  I  lie 

Watching  the  purple  twilight  of  her  eyes. 

I  am  her  laureate ;  therefore  heart  of  grace 
I  take  to  kiss  her.     Where  was  song  like  this  ? 

Love  is  best  sung  of  in  a  loveless  place, 

For  who  would  care  to  sing  where  he  might 
kiss? 


CAMILLA 

Camilla  calls  mo  heartless :  hence  you  see 

Logic  in  love  has  little  part. 
How  can  I  otherwise  than  heartless  be 

Seeing  Camilla  has  my  heart  ? 


SIXTY  TO  SIXTEEN 

If  I  were  young  as  you,  Sixteen, 

And  you  were  old  as  I, 
I  would  not  be  as  I  have  been. 

You  would  not  be  so  shy — 
We  should  not  watch  with  careless  mien 

The  golden  days  go  by, 
If  I  were  young  as  you,  Sixteen, 

And  you  were  old  as  I. 

The  years  of  youth  are  yours,  Sixteen  ; 

Such  years  of  old  had  I, 
But  time  has  set  his  seal  between 

Dark  eyebrow  and  dark  eye. 
Sere  grow  the  leaves  that  once  were  green, 

The  song  turns  to  a  sigh  : 
Ah  !   very  young  are  you,  Sixteen, 

And  very  old'  am  I. 
113 


SIXTY    TO    SIXTEEN 


Red  bloom-times  como  and  go,  Sixteen, 

With  snow-soft  feet,  but  I 
Sliall  be  no  more  as  I  have  been 

In  times  of  bloom  gone  by ; 
For  dimmer  grows  the  pleasant  scene 

Beneath  the  pleasant  sky ; 
The  world  is  growing  old,  Sixteen — 

The  weary  world  and  I. 

Ah,  would  that  once  again,  Sixteen, 

A  kissing  mouth  had  I; 
The  days  would  gaily  go,  I  ween, 

Though  death  should  stand  anigh, 
If  springtime's  green  were  evergreen, 

If  Love  would  never  die. 
And  I  were  young  as  you,  Sixteen, 

And  you  were  old  as  I. 


114 


BODQUET  AND  BRACELET 

Bouquet  said:  "My  floral  ring 

The  homage  of  a  heart  encloses, 
Whose  thoughts  to  you  go  worshipping 

In  perfume  from  my  blushing  roses." 

Bracelet  said  :  "  My  rubies  red. 

Though  hard  the  gleam  that  each  exposes, 
Will  last  when  flowers  of  Spring  are  fled 

And  dead  are  all  the  Summer  roses." 

Beauty  mused  awhile,  and  said, 

"  Here's  poesy  !"  and  sighed,  "  Here  prose  is 
Bouquet !  I  choose  the  rubies  red  ! — 

In  Winter  they  will  buy  me  roses.** 


"5 


CUPID'S   FUNERAL 

By  liis  side,  whose  days  are  past, 

Lay  bow  and  quiver  ! 
And  his  eyes  that  stare  aghast 

Close,  with  a  shiver. 
God  nor  man  from  Death,  at  last, 

Love  may  deliver. 

Though — of  old — we  vowed,  my  dear, 
Death  should  not  take  him  ; 

Mourn  not  thou  that  we  must  here 
Coldly  forsake  him  ; 

Shed  above  his  grave  no  tear — 
Tears  will  not  wake  him. 
Ii6 


Cupid's  funeral 

Cupid  lieth  cold  and  dead — 

Ended  his  flying, 
Pale  his  lips,  once  rosy-red, 

Swift  was  his  dying. 
Place  a  stone  above  his  head, 

Turn  away,  sighing. 


117 


THE  FIRST  OF  MAY 

A    MEMORY 

The  waters  make  a  music  low  : 

The  river  reeds 
Are  trembling  to  the  tunes  of  long  ago — 

Dead  days  and  deeds 

Become  alive  again,  as  on 

I  floatj  and  float, 
Through  shadows  of  the  golden  summers 
gone 

And  springs  remote. 

Above  my  head  the  trees  bloom  out 

In  white  and  red 
Great  blossoms,  that  make  glad  the  air  about; 

And  old  suns  shed 
ii8 


FIKST    OF    MAY 

Their  rays  athwart  tliem.     Ah^  the  light 

Is  brig'lit  aud  fair  ! 
No  suns  that  shine  upon  me  now  are  bright 

As  those  suns  were. 

And^  gazing  down  into  tlie  stream, 

I  see  a  face, 
As  sweet  as  buds  that  blossom  in  a  dream, 

Ere  sorrows  chase 

Fair  dreams  from  men,  and  send  in  lieu 

Sad  thoughts.     A  wreath 
Of  blue-bells  binds  the  head — a  bluer  blue 

The  eyes  beneath. 

This  is  my  little  Annie's  face ; 

My  child-sweetheart 
Whom  long  ago  I  lost  in  that  dark  place 

Where  all  lives  part. 

Beside  me  still  I  see  her  stand. 
Who  is  no  more. 
119 


FIRST    OF    MAY 

She  walked  with  me  through  chiklhood, 
hand  in  hand. 
But  at  the  door 

Of  youth  departed  from  me.     Fain 

Was  I  that  day 
To  go  with  her.  Ah,  sweetheart,  come  again 

This  First  of  May  ! 


A  GHOST 

GrHOSTS  walk  the  Earth,  that  rise  not  from  the 

grave. 
The  Dead  Past  hath  its  living-  dead.     We  see 
All  suddenly,  at  times, — and  shudder  then — • 
Their  faces  pale,  and  sad  accusing-  eyes. 

Last  night,  within  the  crowded  street,  I  saw 
A  Phantom  from  the  Past,  with  pallid  face 
And  hollow  eyes,  and  pale,  cold  lips,  and  hair 
Faded  from  that  impei-ial  hue  of  gold 
Which  was  my  pride  in  days  that  are  no  more. 

That  pallid  face  I  knew  in  its  young  bloom — 
A  radiant  lily  Avith  a  rose-flushed  heart. 
Most  heautiful,  a  vision  of  delight ; 
And  seeing  it  again,  so  clianged,  so  changed, 

121 


A   GHOST 

I  felt  as  if  the  icy  liand  of  Death 
Had  touched  my  forehead  and  his  voice  said 
"Come!" 

Ah,  pale,  cold  lips  that  once  were  rosy-red  ! 
Lips  I  have  kissed  on  golden  afternoons — 
Past,  past,  and  gone,  and  gone  beyond  recall— 
Breathinor  low  vows  beside  the  summer  sea 
(Vows  broken  like  the  breaking  of  a  wave) ; 
Ah,  faded  hair,  whose  curls  I  have  caressed. 
And  sworn  the  least  of  them  was  dearer  far 
Than  all  the  wealth  of  all  the  world  to  me  ! 
Ah,  hollow,  haunting  eyes,  within  whose 

depths. 
Flower-like,  and  star-liko,  once  my  Fate  T  saw, 
Or  thought  I  saw  ! — is  there  not  any  way 
To  call  back  from  its  grave  the  Buried  Past  ? 

Dear  !  Though  my  vows  to  thee  were  all  for- 
sworn, 
Too  well,  too  late,  I  know  I  loved  theo  more 
Than  mine  own  life — a  life-iu-denth  since  tlicm. 
Yet  shall  I  nevermore  in  all  the  days 

122 


A  GHOST 

ziuJ  all  the  lives  to  come,  if  lives  there  be 
Beyond  this  life,  beyond  the  weary  earth, 
Kiss  thee  again  upon  the  lips  and  hair, 
And  call  thee  by  the  old  caressing  names, 
And  feel  thy  true  heart  beating  against  mine. 
That  was  so  false  and  would,  too  late,  be  true  ; 
For  neither  passionate  prayer,  nor  burning  tears, 
Nor  incantations  that  might  rend  the  rocks. 
Nor  all  the  powers  of  hell,  nor  God  Himself, 
May  raise  the  Buried  Past  to  life  again. 

For  thou  that  wert  art  not ;  dead  evei"mc>re — ■ 
Dead  evermore,  too,  that  which  once  was  l. 

What  exorcism  will  lay  these  haunting  ghosts  ? 
None  but  a  draught  of  the  Lethean  stream. 
W^lio  drinks  therefrom  shall  all  things  soon 

forget. 
Himself  forgetting,  too — the  greatest  good. 


121 


EVEN  SO 

The  days  go  by — the  days  go  by, 
Sadly  and  wearily  to  die  : 

Each  with  its  burden  of  small  cares,. 

Each  with  its  sad  gift  of  gray  hairs 
For  those  who  sit,  like  me,  and  sigh, 
"  The  days  go  by  !     The  days  go  by  !" 

Ah,  nevermore  on  shining  plumes. 
Shedding  a  rain  of  rare  perfumes 

That  men  call  memories,  they  are  borne 
As  in  life's  many-visioned  morn, 
When  Love  sang  in  the  myrtle-blooms — 
Ah,  nevermore  on  shining  plumes  ! 
124 


EVEN    SO 

Where  is  my  life  ?     Where  is  ray  life  ? 
The  morning  of  my  youth  was  rife 

With  promise  of  a  golden  day. 

Where  have  my  hopes  gone  ?     Where  are 
they — 
riie  passion  and  the  splendid  strife? 
Where  is  my  life  ?     Whei*e  is  my  life  ? 


My  thoughts  take  hue  from  this  wild  day. 

And,  like  the  skies,  are  ashen  gray  ; 
The  sharp  rain,  falling  constantly. 
Lashes  with  whips  of  steel  the  sea  : 

What  words  ai'e  left  for  Hope  to  say  ? 

My  thoughts  take  hue  from  this  wild  day. 

I  dreamt — my  life  is  all  a  di-eam! — ■ 

That  I  should  sing  a  song  supi-eme 
To  gladden  all  sad  eyes  that  weep. 
And  take  the  Harp  of  Time,  and  sweep 

Its  chords  to  some  eternal  theme. 

I  dreamt — my  life  is  all  a  dream. 
12"; 


EVEN    SO 

The  woi'ld  is  very  old  and  wau — 
Tlie  sun  that  once  so  brightly  shone 

Is  now  as  pale  as  the  pale  moon. 

I  would  that  Death  came  swift  and  soon; 
For  all  my  dreams  are  dead  and  gone. 
The  world  is  very  old  and  wan. 


The  world  is  young,  the  world  is  strong, 
But  I  in  dreams  have  wandered  long. 
God  lives.     What  can  Death  do  to  me 
The  sun  is  shining  on  the  sea. 
Yet  shall  I  sing  my  splendid  song — 
The  world  is  young,  the  world  is  strong. 


126 


SONG 

What  shall  a  man  remember 

In  days  when  he  is  old, 
And  Life  is  a  dying  ember, 

And  Fame  a  story  told  ? 

Power — that  came  to  leave  him  ? 

Wealth — to  the  wild  waves  blown  ? 
Fame — that  came  to  deceive  him  ? 

All,  no  !   Sweet  Love  alone  ! 

Honour,  and  Wealth,  and  Power 
May  all  like  dreams  depart — 

But  Love  is  a  fadeless  flower 
Whose  roots  are  in  the  heart. 


127 


A  SUNSET  FANTASY 

Spellbound  by  a  sweet  fantasy 

At  evens^low  I  stand 
Beside  an  opaline  strange  sea 

That  rings  a  sunset  land. 

The  rich  lights  fade  out  one  by  one. 

And,  like  a  peony 
Drowning  in  wine,  the  crimson  sun 

Sinks  down  in  that  strange  sea. 

His  wake  across  the  ocean-floor 

In  a  long  glory  lies, 
Like  a  gold  wave-way  to  the  shore 

Of  some  sea  paradise. 
128 


A    SUNSET    FANTASY 

My  dream  iiies  after  him^  and  I 

Am  in  another  land  ; 
The  sua  sets  in  another  sky, 

And  we  sit  hand  in  hand. 

Gray  eyes  look  into  mine  ;  such  eyes 

I  til  ink  the  angels'  are — 
Soft  as  the  soft  light  in  the  skies 

AVluui  shines  the  morning  star. 

And  tremulous  as  morn,  when  thin 
Gold  lights  begin  to  glow. 

Revealing  the  bright  soul  within 
As  dawn  the  sun  below. 

So,  hand  in  hand,  we  watch  the  sun 
Burn  down  the  Western  deeps. 

Dreaming  a  charmed  dream,  as  one 
Who  in  enchantment  sleeps; 

A  dream  of  how  we  twain  some  day. 

Careless  of  map  or  chart, 
Will  both  take  ship  and  sail  away 

Into  the  sunset's  heart. 

129 


A    SUNSET    FANTASY 

Our  ship  sliiiU  be  of  sandal  built. 
Like  ships  in  old-world  tales^ 

Carven  with  cunning  art,  and  gilt, 
And  winged  with  scented  sails 

Of  silver  silk,  whereon  the  red 

Great  gladioli  burn, 
A  rainbow-flag  at  her  masthead, 

A.  rose-flag  at  her  stern ; 

And,  perching  on  the  point  above 
Wherefrom  the  pennon  blows, 

The  figure  of  a  flying  dove. 
And  in  her  beak  a  rose. 

And  from  the  fading  land  the  breeze 
Sliall  bring  us,  blowing  low. 

Old  odours  and  old  memories, 
And  airs  of  long  ago — 

A  melody  that  has  no  words 

Of  mortal  speech  a  part, 
Yet  touching  all  the  deepest  chorda 

That  tremble  in  the  heart : 
130 


A    SUNSKl'    FANTASY 

A  scented  song-  blown  oversea. 
As  though  from  bowers  of  bloom 

A  wind-harp  in  a  lilac-tree 
Breathed  music  and  perfume. 

And  we,  no  more  with  longings  pale, 
Will  smile  to  hear  it  blow ; 

I  in  the  shadow  of  the  sail. 
You  in  the  sunset-glow. 

For,  with  the  fading  land,  our  fond 
Old  fears  shall  all  fade  out, 

Paled  by  the  light  from  shores  beyond 
The  dread  of  Death  or  Doubt. 

And  from  a  gloomy  cloud  above 
When  Death  his  shadow  flings, 

The  Spirit  of  Immortal  Love 
Will  shield  us  with  his  wings. 

He  is  the  lord  of  dreams  divine. 
And  lures  us  with  his  smiles 

Along  the  splendour  opaline 
Unto  the  Blessed  Isles. 
131 


POPPIES 

These  are  the  flowers  of  sleep 
That  nod  in  the  heavy  noon, 
Ere  the  brown  shades  eastward  creep 
To  a  drowsy  and  dreamful  tune — 
These  are  the  flowers  of  sleep. 

Liovr's  lilies  are  passion-pale, 
B'At  those  on  the  sun-kissed  flood 
Of  the  corn,  that  rolls  breast  deep, 
Burn  redder  than  drops  of  blood 
On  a  dead  king's  golden  mail. 

Heart's  dearest,  I  would  that  we 
These  blooms  of  forgetfulness 
Might  bind  on  our  brows,  and  steep 
Our  love  in  Lethe  ere  less 
Grow  its  flame  with  thee  or  me. 
133 


POPPIES 

Wlien  Time  with  his  evil  eye 
The  beautiful  Love  has  slain. 
There  is  nought  to  gain  or  keep 
Thereafter,  and  all  is  vain. 
Should  we  wait  to  see  Love  die  ? 

Sweetheart,  of  the  joys  men  reap 
We  have  I'caped ;  'tis  time  to  rest. 
W  hv  should  we  wake  but  to  weep  f 
Fleep  and  forgetting  is  best — 
These  are  the  flowers  of  sleep. 


133 


AMARANTH 

Once  a  poet — long  ago — 

Wrote  a  song  as  void  of  art 
As  the  songs  that  children  know. 

And  as  pure  as  a  child's  heart. 

With  a  sigh  he  threw  it  down, 
Saying,  "  This  will  never  shed 

Any  glory  or  renown 

On  my  name  when  I  am  dead. 

"  I  will  sing  a  lordly  song 

Men  shall  hear,  when  I  am  gone, 
Tlirough  the  years  sound  clear  and  strong 
As  a  golden  clarion." 
*34 


AMARANTH 

So  tliis  lordly  song  lie  sang 

TJiiifc  would  gain  him  deathless  fume — 
When  the  death-knell  o'er  him  rang 

No  man  even  knew  its  name. 

Ay,  and  when  his  way  he  found 
To  the  place  of  singing  souls, 

And  beheld  their  bi'ight  heads  crowned 
With  song-woven  aureoles, 

He  stood  shame-faced  in  the  throng, 
For  his  brow  of  wreath  was  bare. 

And,  alas  !  his  lordly  song 

Sore  had  grown  in  that  sweet  air; 

Then,  all  sudden,  a  divine 

Light  fell  on  him  from  afar. 
And  he  felt  the  child-song  shine 

On  his  forehead  like  a  star. 

So  for  ever.     Each  and  all 

Songs  of  passion  or  of  mirth 
That  are  not  heart-pure  shall  fall 

As  a  sky -lark's — ^to  the  earth ; 
135 


AMARANTH 


But  the  soul's  song  has  no  bounds — 

Like  the  voice  of  Israfel, 
From  the  heaven  of  heavens  it  sounJs 

To  the  very  hell  of  hell. 


136 


THE  LITTLE  PEOPLE 

Who  are  these  strange  small  folk, 

These  that  come  to  our  homes  as  kings, 
Asking  nor  leave  nor  grace. 
Bonding  onr  necks  to  their  yoke, 
Taking  the  highest  place. 
And  mastery  of  all  things  ? 

Whence  they  come  uone  may  know, 
But  a  wondrous  land  it  must  be ; 
Angels  in  exile  they  ! 
Here  in  this  dull  world  below 
Creatures  of  sinful  clay 
We  feel  near  their  purity. 
137 


TBE    LITTLE    I'KOPLE 

Clearer  tlieir  young  eyes  are 

Tlian  the  dew  in  the  cups  of  flowers 
Gleaming,  when  shines  at  dawn, 
Faintly,  the  morning's  one  star — 
Eyes  whose  still  gaze,  indrawn, 
Sees  things  unseen  by  ours. 


Deep  in  those  orbs  serene — 

Little  planets  be-ringed  and  bright — 
Mysteries  marvellous  lie : 
Known  unto  us  they  might  moan 
Faith,  without  fear,  to  die. 
All  sure  of  the  waiting  light. 


Dimpled  their  hands  and  small — 

Would  ye,  therefore,  their  might  contemn  ? 
Seem  they  for  play  designed  ? 
Fate,  and  the  Future  withal. 

Weal,  yea  and  Woe,  of  mankind. 
Lie  hid  in  the  palms  of  them. 
138 


THE    LITTLE    PEG  PL  E 

Tyrants^  whose  terrible  names 

Make  men  pale  with  affright  intense, 
Worshipping,  kiss  their  feet : 
Touch  of  their  little  hands  tames 
Fiercest  of  hearts  that  beat — • 
So  mighty  is  Innocence. 


These  are  the  children  dear, 

From  a  country  unknown  of  charts  : 
(Dim  Land  of  Souls  Unborn), 
Rosy  as  morn  they  come  here, 
Filling  with  joy  forlorn 
Waste  places  in  our  hearts. 


'39 


A  KING  IN  EXILE 

0  THE  Queen  may  keep  lier  golden 
Crown  and  sceptre  of  command  ! 

1  would  give  them  both  twice  over 

To  be  King  of  Babyland. 

Sure,  it  is  a  wondrous  country 

Where  the  beanstalks  grow  apace, 

And  so  very  near  the  moon  is 

You  could  almost  stroke  her  face. 

And  the  dwellers  in  that  country 
Hold  in  such  esteem  their  King, 

They  believe  that  if  he  chooses 
He  can  do — just  anything  ! 
140 


A    KING    IN    EXILE 

And,  altliougli  his  regal  stature 
May  be  only  four-fcct-ten, 

Think  him  tallest,  strongest,  bravest, 
Noblest,  wisest,  best  of  men. 

Ah,  how  fondly  I  remember 
The  good  time  serene  and  fair. 

In  the  bygone  years  when  I,  too. 
Was  a  reigning  monarch  there  ! 

But  my  subjects  they  discrowned  me 
When  they'd  older,  colder,  grown  ; 

And  they  took  away  my  sceptre. 
And  upset  my  royal  throne. 

Yet,  although  a  King  in  Exile, 
Without  subjects  to  command, 

[  am  glad  at  heart  to  think  I 
Once  was  King  of  Babyland, 


t4l 


TAMERLANE 

LtO,  upon  tlie  carpet,  where 
Throned  upon  a  heap  of  slain 

Blue-eyed  dolls  of  beauty  rare 
(Ah,  they  pleaded  all  in  vain  !) 
Sits  the  Infant  Tamerlane  ! 

Broken  toys  upon  the  floor 
Scattered  lie — a  ruined  rout. 

Thus  from  all  things  evermore 
Are — the  fact  is  past  a  doubt — 
Hidden  virtues  hammered  out. 

Poet's  page,  or  statesman's  bust, 
Nothing  comes  to  him  amiss ; 

Everything  he  clutches  must — 
^Tis  his  simple  dream  of  bliss  ! — 
Suffer  his  analysis. 
142 


TAMERLANE 

0  my  little  Tamerlane, 
Infantile  Iconoclast, 

Is  your  small  barbaric  brain 
Not  overawed  by  the  amassed 
Wit  and  Wisdom  of  the  Past  ? 

Typo  are  you  of  that  which  springs 
Ever  forth  when  comes  the  need. 

Overthrowing  thrones  and  kings, 
Faithless  altar,  sapless  creed  ; 
Sowing  fresh  and  living  seed. 

On  the  worn-out  Roman  realm. 

In  whose  purple  gnawed  the  moth. 

Thus  its  pride  to  overwhelm. 

And  its  state  to  carve  like  cloth. 
Swept  the  fierce,  long-sworded  Goth. 

Age  preserves  with  doting  care 

Things  from  which  life  long  has  fled. 

Shrieks  to  see  Youth  touch  a  hair 
On  the  mouldiest  mummy-head — 
So  Egyptians  kept  their  dead. 
143 


TAMERLANE 

Youtli  coines  by  with  head  higli-reared, 
Stares  in  scorn  at  these  august 

Effigies  by  age  revered — 

Gilded  shapes  of  Greed  and  Lust — 
Shakes  them  into  rags  aud  dust. 

Little  Vandal,  smash  away  ! 

Riot  while  your  blood  is  hot ! — 
If  into  the  world  each  day 

Such  as  you  are  entered  not. 

It  would  perish  of  dry-rot. 


144 


THE  DEAD  CHILD 

All  silent  is  the  room, 

There  is  no  stir  of  breath, 

Save  mine,  as  in  the  gloom 
I  sit  alone  with  Death. 

Short  life  it  hud,  the  sweet, 
Small  babe  here  lying  dead, 

With  tapers  at  its  feet 
And  tapers  at  its  head. 

Dear  little  hands,  too  frail 
Tlieir  grasp  on  life  to  hold ; 

Dear  little  month  so  pale, 
So  solemn,  and  so  cold  ; 

145 


THE    DEAD    CHILD 

Small  feet  that  nevermore 
About  the  house  shall  run; 

Thy  little  life  is  o'er ! 
Thy  little  journey  done  ! 

Sweet  infant,  dead  too  soon, 
Thou  shalt  no  more  behold 

The  face  of  sun  or  moon. 
Or  starlight  clear  and  cold ; 

Nor  know,  where  thou  art  gone. 
The  mournfulnoss  and  mirth 

We  know  who  dwell  upon 

This  sad,  glad,  mad,  old  earth. 

The  foolish  hopes  and  fond 

That  cheat  us  to  the  last 
Thou  shalt  not  feel ;  beyond 

All  these  things  thou  hast  passed. 

The  struggles  that  upraise 
The  soul  by  slow  degrees 

To  God,  through  weary  days — 
Thou  hast  no  part  in  these. 
146 


THE    DEAD    CHILD 

And  at  thy  cliildisli  play 

Shall  we,  0  little  one. 
No  more  behold  thee  ?     Nay, 

No  more  beneath  the  sun. 

Death's  sword  may  well  be  bared 
'Gainst  those  grown  old  in  strife, 

But,  ah  !  it  might  have  spared 
Thy  little  unlived  life. 

Why  talk  as  in  despair  ? 

Just  God,  whose  rod  I  kiss. 
Did  not  make  thee  so  fair 

To  end  thy  life  at  this. 

There  is  some  pleasant  shore — 
Far  from  His  Heaven  of  Pride, 

Where  those  strong  souls  who  bore 
His  Cross  in  bliss  abide — 

Some  place  where  feeble  things. 
For  Life's  long  war  too  weak. 

Young  birds  with  unfledged  wings. 
Duds  nipped  by  storm-winds  bleak, 
147 


THE    DEAD    CHILD 

Young  lambs  left  all  forlorn 

Beneath  a  bitter  sky, 
Meek  souls  to  sorrow  born, 

Find  refuge  when  they  die. 

There  day  is  one  long  dawn. 
And  from  the  cups  of  flowers 

Light  dew-filled  clouds  updrawn 
Rain  soft  and  perfumed  shower; 

Child  Jesus  walketh  there 
Amidst  child-angel  bands. 

With  smiling  lips,  and  fair 
White  roses  in  His  hands. 

I  kiss  thee  on  the  brow, 
I  kiss  thee  on  the  eyes — 

Farewell  !  Thy  home  is  now 
The  Children's  Paradise. 


148 


IN  MEMORY  OF  AN  ACTRESS 

Say  little  :  where  she  lies,  so  let  her  rest : 

What  cares  she  now  for  Fame,  and  what  for 

Art? 
What  for  applause  ?     She  has  played  out  her 
part. 
Her  hands  are  folded  calmly  on  her  breast — 
God  knows  the  best ! 

She  has  gone  down,  as  all  must  go,  to  where 
The  players  of  the  past  are  lying  low — 
Players  who  played  their  parts  out  long  ao-o — • 

With  the  life-hue  still  bright  on  lips  and  hair 
And  forehead  fair. 

Cheek's  colour,  poise  of  head,  and  flash  of  eye 
Who  will  remember  them  when  we  are  dead  ? 
Whom  that  is  dead  have  we  remembered  ? 
149 


iN    MKMORY    OF    AN    ACTRESS 

The  eud  is  one  altliougli  we  smile  or  sigh — 
We  live ;  we  die. 

Bitter  to  some  is  Death,  to  some  is  sweet — 
Sweetest  to  youth  and  bitterest  to  age; 
But  simple  is  the  costume  for  the  stage^ 

The  darkened  stage  of  death,  and  very  meet — 
A  winding-sheet. 

So  we  may  fill  our  days  with  grief  or  mirth, 
Each  as  he  pleases :  but  what  boots  it  all. 
When  on  the  coffin-lid  the  cold  clods  fall, 

Though  we  had  been  most  eloquent  on  earth 
Or  dumb  from  birth  ? 

So,  let  her  rest  who  perished  in  her  prime  : 
Surely   through,  darkness   she  shall   find   the 

light 
And,  though  obscured  to  us  in  outer  night, 
Shall  play  her  part  yet  in  a  play  sublime 
In  God's  good  time. 


ISO 


THE  RIVBK  MAIDEN 

Her  gowu  was  simple  woven  wool. 

But,  in  repayment. 
Her  body  sweet  made  beautiful 

The  simplest  raiment : 

For  all  its  fine,  melodious  curves 

With  life  a-quiver 
Were  graceful  as  the  bends  and  swerves 

Of  her  own  river. 

Her  round  arms,  from  the  shoulders  down 

To  sweet  hands  slender. 
The  sun  had  kissed  them  amber-brown 

With  kisses  tender. 
151 


THE    MVEK    MAIDEN 

For  tliouii'h  slie  loved  the  secret  shades 

Where  ferus  grow  stilly, 
And  wild  vines  droop  their  glossy  braids, 

And  gleams  the  lily. 

And  Nature,  with  soft  eyes  that  glow 

In  gloom  that  glistens. 
Unto  her  own  heart,  beating  slow, 

In  silence  listens : 

She  loved  no  less  the  meadows  fair. 

And  green,  and  spacious  ; 
The  river,  and  the  azure  air, 

And  sunlight  gracious. 

I  saw  her  first  when  tender,  wan. 

Green  light  enframed  her  ; 
And,  in  my  heart,  the  Flower  of  Dowv 

I  softly  named  her. 

The  bright  sun,  like  a  king  in  state, 

With  banners  streaming. 
Rode  through  the  fair  auroral  gate 

In  mail  gold-glearaing. 

IS2 


THE    RIVEE    MAIDEN 

The  witcli-eyed  stars  before  him  paled — 

So  higli  liis  scorning  ! — 
And  round  tlie  liills  the  rose-clouds  sailed, 

And  it  was  morning. 

The  light  mimosas  bended  low 

To  do  her  honour, 
As  in  that  rosy  morning  glow 

I  gazed  upon  her. 

My  boat  swung  bowward  to  the  stream 

Where  tall  reeds  shiver ; 
We  floated  onward,  in  a  droani, 

Far  down  the  River. 

The  Eiver  that  full  oft  has  told 

To  Ocean  hoary 
A  many-coloured,  sweet,  and  old 

Unending  story  : 

Tlie  story  of  the  tall,  young  trees, 

For  ever  sighing 
To  sail  some  day  the  rolling  seas 

'Neath  banners  flying. 
153 


THE    RIVER    MAIDEN 

The  Ocean  hears,  and  through  liis  caves 

Roars  gvisty  hxugliter ; 
And  takes  the  River,  witli  his  waves 

To  roll  thereafter. 

But  Love  deep  waters  cannot  drown  ; 

To  its  old  fountains 
The  stream  returns  in  clouds  that  crown 

Its  parent  mountains. 

The  River  was  to  her  so  dear 

She  seemed  its  daughter ; 
Iler  deep  translucent  eyes  were  clear 

As  sunlit  water; 

And  in  her  bright  veins  seemed  to  run, 

Pulsating,  glowing, 
The  music  of  the  wind  and  sun, 

And  waters  flowing. 

The  secrets  of  the  trees  she  knew: 
Their  growth,  their  gladness, 

And,  when  their  time  of  death  was  due, 
Their  stately  sadness. 
154 


THE    RIVER    MAIDEN 

Gray  gums,  like  old  men  warped  by  time, 

She  knew  tlieir  story  ; 
And  tlieirs  tliat  laughed  in  pride  of  prime 

And  leafy  glory  ; 

And  theirs  that,  Avhere  clear  waters  run, 
Drooped  dreaming,  dreaming; 

And  theirs  that  shook  against  the  sun 
Their  green  plumes  gleaming. 

All  things  of  gladness  that  exist 

Did  seem  to  woo  her, 
And  well  that  woodland  satirist, 

The  lyre-bird,  knew  her. 

And  there  were  hidden  mossy  dells 

That  she  knew  only, 
Where  Beauty  born  of  silence  dwells 

Mysterious,  lonely. 

No  sounds  of  toil  their  stillness  taunt, 

No  hearth-smoke  sullies 
The  air:  the  Mountain  INIuses  hnunt 

Those  lone,  green  gullies. 


THE    RIVER    MAIDEN 

And  there  they  weave  a  song  of  Fate 

That  never  slumbers : 
A  song  some  bard  shall  yet  translate 

In  golden  numbers. 

A  blue  haze  veiled  the  hills'  huge  shapes, 

A  misty  lustre — 
Like  rime  upon  the  purple  grapes, 

When  ripe  they  cluster : 

'Twas  noon,  and  all  the  Vale  was  gold — 

An  El  Dorado : 
The  damask  river  seaward  rolled, 

Through  shine  and  shadow. 

And,  gazing  on  its  changing  glow, 

I  saw,  half-sighing, 
The  wondrous  Fairyland  below 

Its  surface  lying. 

There  all  things  shone  with  paler  sheen  • 

More  softly  shimmered 
The  fern-fronds,  and  with  softer  green 

The  myrtles  glimmered  : 
156 


THE    RIVER    MAIDEN 

And — like  that  Fisher  gazing  in 

The  sea-depths,  pining 
For  days  gone  by,  who  saw  Julin 

Beneath  him  shining. 

With  many  a  wave-waslied  corridor. 

And  sea-filled  portal, 
And  plunged  below,  and  nevermore 

Was  seen  of  mortal — 

So  I,  long  gazing  at  the  gleam 

Of  fern  and  flower. 
Felt  drawn  down  to  that  World  of  Dream 

By  magic  power  : 

For  there,  I  knew,  in  silence  sat, 

With  breasts  slow-heaving, 
Illusion's  Queen  Rabesqnerat, 

Her  web  a- weaving. 

But  when  the  moon  shone,  large  and  low. 

Against  Orion, 
Then,  as  from  some  p;ile  portico 

Might  issue  Dian, 
IS7 


THE    RIVER    MAIDEN 

Slie  came  through  tall  tree-pillars  pale, 

A  silver  vision, 
A  nymph  strayed  out  of  Ida's  vale 

Or  fields  Elysian. 

White  stars  shone  out  with  mystic  gleams 

The  woods  illuming : 
It  seemed  as  if  the  trees  in  dreams 

Once  more  were  blooming. 

And  all  beneath  those  starry  blooms, 

By  bends  and  beaches, 
We  floated  on  through  glassy  glooms, 

Down  moonlit  reaches. 

Ah,  that  was  in  the  glad  years  when 

Joys  ne'er  were  sifted, 
But  I  on  wilder  floods  since  then 

Have  darkly  di'ifted. 

Yet,  River  of  lioiuance,  for  me 

With  pictures  glowing, 
Through  dim,  green  fields  of  Memory 

Thou  still  art  flowing. 
158 


THE    RrVEE   MAIDEN 

And  still  I  hear,  thy  shores  along. 

All  faintly  ringingj 
The  notes  of  g'hosts  of  birds  that  long 

Have  ceased  their  singing. 

Was  she,  who  then  my  hoai-t  did  use 

To  touch  so  purely, 
A  mortal  maiden — or  a  Muse  ? 

I  know  not,  surely. 

But  still  in  dreams  I  see  her  stand, 

A  fairer  Flora, 
Serene,  immortal,  by  the  strand 

Of  clear  Narora. 


IS9 


A  PICTURE 

The  sun  burns  fiercely  down  the  skies ; 

The  sea  is  full  of  flashing  eyes ; 

The  waves  glide  shoreward  serpentwise 

Aiid  fawn  with  foamy  tongues  on  stark 
Gray  rocks,  each  sharp-toothed  as  a  shark, 
And  hiss  in  clefts  and  channels  dark. 

Blood-purple  soon  the  waters  grow, 

As  though  drowned  sea-kings  fought  below 

Forgotten  fights  of  long  ago. 

The  gray  owl  Dusk  its  wings  has  spread; 
The  sun  sinks  in  a  blossom-bed 
Of  poppy-clouds;   the  day  is  dead. 


i6o 


SEA-GIFTS 

Give  thou  a  gift  to  me 

From  thy  treanure-hun^-e,  0  sea  ! 

Said  a  red-lipped  laughing  girl 
While  the  summer  yet  was  young ; 

And  the  sea  laughed  back  and  flung 
At  her  feet  a  priceless  pearl. 

Give  thou  a  gift  to  me 

From  thy  treasure-ho^ise,  0  sea  ! 

Said  the  maiden  once  again 
On  a  night  of  wind  and  rain. 

Like  a  ghost  the  moon  above  her 
Stared  through  wiuding-sheots  of  cloud. 
i6i 


SEA    GIFTS 

On  tlie  sand  in  sea-weed  shroud, 
Lay  the  pale  corpse  of  her  lover. 

Which  is  better,  gain  or  loss  ? 
A\  Inch  is  nobler,  crown  or  cross  ? 

Wc  shall  know  these  things,  maybe, 
When  the  dead  rise  from  the  sea. 


162 


DAY   AND   NIGHT 

Day  goetli  bold  in  cloth  of  gold, 

A  royal  bridegroom  lie  ; 
But  Night  in  jewelled  purplu  walks — 

A  Queen  of  Mystery. 

Day  filleth  up  his  loving-cup 

With  vintage  golden-clear; 
But  Night  her  ebon  chalice  crowns 

With  wine  as  pale  as  Fear. 

Day  drinks  to  Life,  to  ruddj'  Life, 

And  holds  a  kingly  feast. 
Night  drinks  to  Death ;    and  while    she 
drinks — 
Day  rises  in  the  East ! 
163 


DAT   AND    NIGHT 

TIk'3'  may  not  uioet ;  they  may  not  greet : 

Each  keeps  a  separate  way  : 
Day  knoweth  not  the  stars  of  Night, 

Nor  Night  the  Star  of  Day. 

So  runs  the  reign  of  Other  Twain. 

Behold  !    the  Preacher  saith 
Death  knoweth  not  the  Light  of  Life, 

Nor  Life  the  Light  of  Death  ! 


164 


THE  POET  CAEE 

Care  is  a  Poet  fiue  : 
He  works  in  shade  or  shine, 
And  leaves— you  know  liis  sig-u  !- 
No  day  without  its  line. 

He  writes  with  iron  pen 
Upon  the  brows  of  men  ; 
Faint  lines  at  first,  and  then 
He  scores  them  in  again. 

His  touch  at  first  is  liglit 
On  Beauty's  brow  of  white  ; 
The  old  churl  loves  to  write 
On  foreheads  broad  and  bright. 
165 


THE    POET    CARE 

A  line  for  young  love  crossed, 
A  line  for  fair  hopes  lost 
In  an  untimely  frost — 
A  line  that  means  Thou  Wast. 

Then  deeper  script  appears  : 
The  furrows  of  dim  fears, 
The  traces  of  old  tears, 
The  tide-marks  of  the  years. 

To  him  with  sight  made  strong 
By  suffering  and  wrong, 
The  brows  of  all  the  throng 
Are  eloquent  with  song. 


t66 


VOICES 

There  are  three  mighty  Voices  tliat  alway 
Cry  out  to  God  to  speed  His  Judgment  Day. 

The  Voice  of  Devils,  weary  long  ago 
Of  dragging  souls  to  Everlasting  Woe. 

The  Voice  of  Saints  who  hear,  while  anthems 

swell 
In  Heaven,  the  wail  of  sinners  doomed  to  IIcll. 

The  Voice  of  Man,  sick  of  his  desperate 
Long  throwing  'gainst  the  leaded  dice  of  Fate. 

All  things  are  weary  of  the  strife  and  stress — 
In  God  alone  is  there  no  Aveariness  ? 


167 


THE  ASCETIC 

The  narrow,  thorny  path  he  trod. 

"  Enter  into  My  joy,"  said  God. 
The  sad  ascetic  shook  his  head  ; 

"  I've  lost  all  taste  for  joy,"  he  said. 


1 68 


THE  SERPENT'S  LEGACY 

An  apple  caused  man's  fall,  as  some  believe  ^ 
But  that  old  Snake,  malevoleutly  wise, 

A  deadlier  snare  set  when  he  left  to  Eve 
His  tongue  of  honey  and  mesmeric  eyes. 


169 


HIS  ROUL 

Once  from  the  world  of  living  inea 
I  passed,  by  a  strange  fancy  led. 
To  a  still  City  of  the  Dead, 

To  call  upon  a  citizen. 

He  had  been  famous  in  his  day; 

Much  talked  of,  written  of,  and  praised 
For  virtues  my  small  soul  amazed — 

And  yet  I  thought  his  heart  was  clay. 

He  was  too  full  of  grace  for  me  : 
His  friends  said,  on  a  marble  stone, 
His  soul  sat  somewhere  near  the  Throne 

I  did  not  know ;  I  called  to  see. 
170 


HIS   SOtJL 

His  name  and  fame  were  on  the  door — 
A  most  superior  tomb  indeed, 
Much  railed,  and  gilt,  and  filigreed ; 

Ho  occupied  the  lower  floor. 

I  knocked — a  worm  craided  from  its  hole 
I  looked — and  knew  it  for  his  soul. 


171 


THE  DREAM  OF  MAllGAUl^T 

It  fell  u])on  a  summer  uiglit 

The  village  folk  were  soundly  sleeping, 
Unconscious  of  the  glamour  white 

In  which  the  moon  all  things  was  steeping; 
One  window  only  showed  a  light; 

Behind  it_,  silent  vigil  keeping. 
Sat  Margaret,  as  one  in  trance — 
The  dark-eyed  daughter  of  the  Manse, 

A  flood  of  strange,  sweet  thoughts  Avns  surging 
Her  passionate  heart  and  brain  within. 

At  last,  some  secret  impulse  urging. 
She  laid  aside  her  garment  thin, 

And  from  its  snowy  folds  emerging, 
Like  Lamia  from  the  serpent-skin, 

She  stood  before  lier  mirror  bi-i^'ht 

O 

Naked,  and  lovely  as  the  nigiit. 
172 


THE    DliEAM    OF   MARGARET 

Her  dark  liair  o'er  her  shoulders  flowing 
Might  well  have  been  a  silken  pall 

O'er  Galatea's  image  glowing 

To  life  and  love  :  she  was  witlial — 

The  lamplight  o'er  her  radiance  throwing — 
With  her  high  bosom  virginal^ 

A  wf)mau  made  to  madden  men, 

A  Cleopatra  born  again. 

Hers  was  the  beauty  dark  and  splendid. 
Whose  spell  upon  the  heart  of  man 

Falls  swiftly  as,  when  day  is  ended, 
Night  falls  in  lands  Australian. 

Her  rich,  ripe,  scarlet  lips,  bow-bended. 
Smiled  as  such  ripe  lips  only  can  ; 

Her  eyes,  wherein  strange  lightnings  shone. 

Were  deepoi-  than  Oblivion. 

With  round,  white  arms,  whose  warm  caress 
No  lover  knew,  raised  towai-ds  the  ceiling. 

She  looked  like  some  young  Pythoness 
The  secrets  dark  of  Fato  revealing, 
173 


THE    DREAM    OF    MARGARET 

Or  godJess  in  divino  distress 

To  higher  powers  for  lu^lp  appealing. 
This  invocation,  standing  so, 
She  sang  in  clear,  sweet  tones,  but  low 

Suul,  from  this  narrow, 
Mean  life  we  know, 

Speed  as  an  arrow 
From  bended  how  I 

Seeh,  and  discover, 

On  land  or  sea, 
My  destined  lover, 

Where'er  he  he. 

How  shall  tliou  Icnow  him, 
My  heart's  desire  ? — 

His  mien  will  show  him, 
His  glance  of  fire. 

High  is  his  hearing, 

His  pride  is  high. 
His  spirit  daring 

Burns  in  his  eye. 
174 


THE    DRKAM    OF    MARGARET 

Birds  have  done  viating  j 

The  Sprinci  is  past  ; 
My  arms  are  waiting, 

My  heart  beats  fast. 

"  Oh,  why,"  she  sig'lied,  "  has  Fate  awarded 
This  lot  to  me  whose  heart  is  bold  ? 

My  days  by  trifles  are  recorded. 
My  suitors  men  whose  God  is  gold. 

Oh  for  the  Heroes  helmed  and  sworded. 
The  lovers  of  the  days  of  old. 

Who  broke  for  ladies  many  a  lance 

In  gallant  days  of  old  Romance  ! 

"  Would  I  had  lived  in  that  great  time  when 
A  lady's  love  was  knight's  best  boon  ; 
When  sword  with  sword  made  ringing  rhyme, 
when 
Mailed  soa-kings  fought  from  noon  to  moon. 
And  thought  the  slaughter  grim  no  crime,  when 

The  prize  was  golden-haired  Gudrun. 
Then  /might  find  swords,  broad  and  bright 
And  keen  as  theirs,  for  me  to  fight. 
175 


TUE    BKKAM    OF    MARGAEET 

'^But  narrow  bounds  my  life  environ, 

And  hold  my  eager  spirit  in. 
TJie  men  I  see  no  heart  of  fire  in 

Their  bodies  bear.     My  love  to  win 
A  man  must  have  a  will  of  iron, 

A  soul  of  flaine.     Then  sweet  were  sin 
Or  Death  for  him  !  "     With  ardent  glance 
Thus  spake  the  daughter  of  the  Manse. 

TheUj  with  a  smile,  she  fell  asleep  in 
Her  white  and  dainty  maiden  bed. 

The  chaste,  cold  moon  alone  could  peep  in, 
And  view  her  tresses  dark  outspread 

Ujion  an  arm  whose  clasp  might  keep  in 
The  life  of  one  given  up  for  dead: 

And,  as  she  drifted  down  the  stream 

Of  Slumber  deep,  she  dreamt  a  dream. 

It  was  a  banquet  rich  and  rare, 

The  wine  of  France  was  foaming  madly; 
The  proud  and  great  of  earth  were  there, 
Au'l  all  were  slaves  to  serve  her  gladly, 
176 


THE    DREAM    OP    MARGARET 

And  yet  on  them  with  haughty  air 

She  gazed,  half-scornfully,  lialf-sadly  ; 
The  Lady  of  the  Feast  was  she — 
So  ran  her  strange  dream-fantasy. 

A  Prince  was  at  hor  fair  right  hand, 

And  at  lier  left  a  famous  leader 
Of  hosts,  with  look  of  high  command, 

And — blacker  than  the  tents  of  Kedar — 
An  Eastern  King,  barbaric,  grand, 

Sat  near — tlieir  Queen  they  had  decreed  her. 
Below  the  proud,  the  brave,  the  wise. 

Sat  charmed  by  her  mesmeric  eyes. 

Then  thus  she  spake  :  "  0  Lords  of  Earth  ! 

Than  you  I  know  none  nobler,  braver; 
And  yet  your  fame,  and  rank,  and  birth. 

And  wealth  in  my  sight  find  small  favour, 
For  all  too  well  I  know  their  worth — 

Long  since  for  me  they  lost  their  savour. 
The  Spirit,  fit  to  mate  with  miue. 
Must  be  demoniac — or  divine. 
177 


THE    DREAM    OF    MARGARET 

'A  toast !"  she  cried.     The  gallant  throng 

Sprang  up^  their  foaming  glasses  clinking. 
"  Saian  !  The  Spirit  proud  and  strong  I 
The  bravest  lover  to  mij  thinking ! 
The  Wine  of  Life  I've  drunk  too  long : 

The  Wine  of  death  I  now  am  drinking  ! "  .  . 
"  Our  Queen  she  was  a  moment  since — 
Bear  forth  the  body  !"  said  the  Prince. 

A  ghostly  wind  arose,  all  wet 

With  tears^  and  full  of  cries  and  wailing. 
And  wringing  hands,  and  faces  set 

In  bitter  anguisli  unavailing; 
It  bore  the  soul  of  Margaret 

To  where  a  voice,  in  tones  of  railing, 
Cried,  "  Spirit  proud,  thou  hast  done  well  1 
Thou  art  within  the  Gates  of  Hell ! " 

The  soul  of  Margaret  passed  slowly, 

Yet  bravely,  through  tlie  Hall  of  Dread^ 

Tlie  roof  whereof  was  hidden  wholly 
By  black  clouds  hmiging  overhead. 

J  7^ 


THE    DREAM    OP    MARGARET 

No  sound  disturbed  the  melancholy 

Deep  silence — which  itself  seemed  dead. 
No  wailing  of  the  damned  was  heard, 
No  voice  the  fearful  stillness  stirred. 

But  that  deep  silence  held  in  keeping 

'J'he  secret  of  Eternal  Woe — 
That  yet  seemed  like  a  serpent  creeping 

Around  the  walls.     It  was  as  though 
The  cries  of  pain  and  hopeless  weeping 

Had  died  out  ages  long  ago. 
No  face  was  seen^  no  figure  dread.  .  .  . 
Were  all  the  damned  and  devils  dead  ? 

No  lustre  known  on  earth  was  gleaming 
In  that  dread  Hall,  but  some  weird  light 

Around  the  pillars  vast  was  streaming, 
And  down  the  vistas  infinite; 

A  light  like  that  men  see  in  dreaming, 
And,  waking,  shudder  with  affright. 

Its  glare  a  baleful  splendour  shed 

For  ever  through  the  Hall  of  Dread. 
179 


THE    DREAM    OF    MARGARET 

Then  suddenly  she  was  awai'e 

That  from  the  walls,  and  all  around  lier. 
In  motionless  and  burning  stare. 

Millions  of  eyes  glowed,  that  spellbound  her 
The  everlasting  dumb  despair 

That  spoke  from  thorn  made  Pity  founder; 
And,  as  she  passed  along  the  floor, 
She  trod  on  burning  millions  more. 

For  floor  and  pillar,  roof  and  all, 

Wore  full  of  eyes,  for  over  burning — 

'Twas  these  that  lit  tlie  Dreadful  Hall,      . 
These  were  the  damned  beyond  returning, 

Sealed  up  in  pillar,  floor,  and  wall. 

Without  a  tongue  to  voice  their  yearning, 

Or  grief,  or  hate,  so  God  might  know  : 

Their  eyes  alone  could  speak  their  woe. 

Her  way  lit  by  the  weird  light  flowing 
From  those  sad,  awful  eyes,  she  passed 

To  where — her  terror  ever  growing — 
Upon  a  Throne,  in  fire  set  fast, 
1 80 


THK    DKKAM    OP   MARGARET 

And  like  a  Rose  of  fire  far-glowing^ 

She  saw  a  Figure,  Veiled  aud  Vast. 
She  trembled,  for  she  knew  full  well 
She  stood  before  the  Lord  of  Hell. 

And  then,  an  instant  courage  taking, 
She  knelt  before  the  burning  throne, 

And,  all  her  hopes  of  heaven  forsaking, 
She  cried,  "  O  Lord,  make  me  thine  own  ! 

For  men,  though  they  be  of  God's  making, 
I  love  not.     Thee  I  love  alone." 

The  figure  veiled  spake  thus :    "  Arise, 

0  Spirit  proud — and  most  unwise!" 

And  as  It  spake,  unveiling  slowly, 

A  brow  of  awful  beauty  shone 
On  Margaret's  soul — yet  Melancholy 

And  Woe  Eternal  sat  thereon. 
But,  lo  !  the  form  was  woman  Avholly. 

A  faint  smile  played  her  lips  upon. 
As  in  a  voice  low,  sweet,  and  level 
She  said  :  "  My  dear,  I  am  the  Devil ! " 
i8i 


THE    DUEAM    OE    MARGARET 

With  one  wild  wail  of  bitter  scorn iug 
Tlie  stricken  soul  of  Margaret  fled, 

Sore  harrowed  by  that  dreadful  warning; 
And,  shrieking,  through  the  Hall  of  Dread 

She  passed  .   .  .  and  woke  .   .   .  and  it  was 
morning. 
And  she  was  in  her  own  white  bed. 


Soon  afterwards,  the  tale  runs,  she 
Took  veil  within  a  nunnery. 


THE  MARTYR 

Not  only  on  cross  and  gibbet, 
By  sword,  and  fire,  and  flood, 

Have  perished  the  world's  sad  martyrs 
Whose  names  are  writ  in  blood. 

A  woman  lay  in  a  hovel^ 

Moan,  dismal,  gasping  for  breath ; 
One  friend  alone  was  beside  her — 

The  name  of  him  was — Death. 

For  the  sake  of  her  orphan  children. 
For  money  to  buy  them  food. 

She  hail  slaved  in  the  dismal  hovel 
And  wasted  her  womanhood. 
183 


THE    MARTYR 

Winter  and  Spi-ing  and  Summer 
Came  each  with  a  load  of  cares; 

And  Autumn  to  her  brought  only 
A  harvest  of  gray  hairs. 

Far  out  in  the  blessed  country. 

Beyond  the  smoky  town, 
The  winds  of  God  were  blowing 

Evermore  up  and  down  ; 

The  trees  were  waving  signals 
Of  joy  from  the  bush  beyond; 

The  gum  its  blue-green  banner, 
The  fern  its  dark  green  frond ; 

Flower  called  to  flower  in  whispers 

By  sweet  caressing  names. 
And  young  gum  shoots  sprang  upward 

Like  woodland  altar-flames; 

And,  deep  in  the  distant  ranges, 

The  magpie's  fluting  song 
Roused  musical,  mocking  echoes 

In  the  woods  of  Dandenong ; 
184 


THE    MAKTYR 

And  riders  were  galloping  gaily 

With  loose-held  flowing  reins, 
Through  dim  and  shadowy  gullies, 

Across  broad,  treeless  plains  ; 

And  winds  through  the  Heads  came  wafting 

A  breath  of  life  from  the  sea. 
And  over  the  blue  horizon 

The  ships  sailed  silently; 

And  out  of  the  sea  at  morning 

The  sun  rose,  golden  bright. 
And  in  crimson,  and  gold,  and  purple 

Sank  in  the  sea  at  night ; 

But  in  dreams  alone  she  saw  them, 

Her  hours  of  toil  between  ; 
For  life  to  her  was  only 

A  heartless  dead  machine. 

Her  heart  was  in  the  graveyard 

Where  lay  her  children  three, 
Nor  work  nor  prayer  could  save  thcMU, 

Nor  tears  of  agony. 
185 


THE    MARTVR 

On  the  lips  of  her  last  and  dearest 

Pressing  a  farewell  kiss, 
She  cried  aloud  in  her  anguish — 
"  Can  Grod  make  amends  for  this?" 

Dull,  desperate,  ceaseless  slaving 
Bereft  her  of  power  to  pray, 

And  Man  was  careless  and  ci'uel, 
And  God  was  far  away. 

But  who  shall  measure  His  mercieti  I 
His  ways  are  in  the  deep ; 

And,  after  a  life  of  sorrow, 
He  gave  her  His  gift  of  sk-ep. 

Rest  comes  at  last  to  the  weary, 
And  freedom  to  the  slave  ; 

Her  tired  and  worn-out  body 
Sleeps  well  in  its  pauper  grave. 

But  His  angel  bore  her  soul  up 
To  that  Bright  Land  and  Fair, 

Where  Sorrow  enters  never, 
Nor  any  cloud  of  Care. 
1 86 


THE    MARTYR 

They  came  to  a  lovely  valley, 

A  gleam  with  asphodel, 
And  the  soul  of  the  woman  speaking 

Said—"  Here  I  fain  would  dwell  ! '' 

The  Ang-el  answered  gently  : 
"  O  Soul  most  pure  and  dear, 
0  Soul  most  tried  and  truest. 
Thy  dwelling  is  not  here  1 

"  Behold  thy  place  appointed — ■ 

Long  kept,  long  waiting — come  !— 
Where  bloom  on  the  hills  of  heav*?n 
The  roses  of  M:n'tyrdom  !' 


I»7 


HIS   MATE 

It  may  have  been  a  fraginent  of  that  higher 

Truth  dri  avis,  at  times,  disclose  ; 
It  may  have  been  to  Fond  Illusion  nigher^ 

But  thus  the  story  goes : 

A  fierce  sun  glared  irpon  a  gaunt  land,  stricken 

With  barrenness  and  thirst, 
Where  Nature's  pulse  with  joy  of  Spring  would 
quicken 

No  more ;  a  land  accurst. 

Gray  salt-bush  grimmer  made  the  desolation — 

Like  mocking  immortelles 
Strewn  on  the  graveyard  of  a  perished  nation 

Whose  name  no  record  tells. 
|8S 


HIS    MATE 

No  faintest  sign  of  distant  water  glimmered 

The  aching  eye  to  bless ; 
The  far  horizon  like  a  sword^s  edere  shimmered, 

Keen^  gleaming,  pitiless. 

And  all  the  long  day  through  the  hot  air 
quivered 
Beneath  a  burning  sky. 
In  dazzling  dance  of  heat  that  flashed  and 
shivered  : 
It  seemed  as  if  hard  by 

The  borders  of  this  region,  evil-favoured. 

Life  ended.  Death  began  : 
But  no;  upon  the  plain  a  shadow  wavered — 

The  shadow  of  a  man. 

What  man  was  this  by  Fate  or  Folly  driven 

To  cross  the  dreadful  plain  ? 
A  pilgrim  poor  ?  or  Ishmael  unforgiven  ? 

The  man  was  Andy  Blane, 

A  stark  old  sinner,  and  a  stout,  as  ever 
Blue  swag  has  carried  through 


HTS    MATE 

Tliat  g-rim,  wild  land  men  name  the  Never-Never, 
Beyond  tlie  far  Barcoo. 

His  strength  was  failing  now,  but  his  unfailing 

Strong  spirit  still  upbore 
And  drove  him  on  with  courage  yet  unqu ailing, 

In  spite  of  weakness  sore. 

When,  lo  !  beside  a  clump  of  salt-bush  lying, 

All  suddenly  he  found 
A  stranger,  who  before  his  eyes  seemed  dying 

Of  thirst,  without  a  sound. 

Straightway  beside  that  stranger  on  the  sandy 

Salt  plain — a  death-bed  sad — 
Down  kneeling,  "  Drink  this  water,  mate  ! "  said 
Andy — 

It  was  the  last  he  had. 

Behold  a  miracle  !  for  when  that  Other 

Had  drunk,  he  rose  and  cried, 
''  Let  us  pass  on  !  "    As  brother  might  with 
brother 
So  went  they,  side  by  side ; 
igo 


HIS    MATE 

Until  tlie  fierce  sniij  like  an  eyeball  bloody 

Eclipsed  in  death,  was  seen 
No    more,    and    in    tlie    spacious  West,    still 
ruddy, 

A  star  shone  out  serene. 

As  one,  then,  whom  some  memory  beguiling 

May  gladden,  yea,  and  grieve, 
The  stranger,  pointing  up,  said,  siuUy  smiling, 

''  The  Star  of  Christmas  Eve  !  " 

Andy  replied  not.     Unto  him  the  sky  was 

All  reeling  stars ;  his  breath 
Came  thick  and  fast ;  and  life  an  empty  lie  was ; 

True  one  tiling  only — Death. 


Beneath  the  moonlight,  with  the  weird,  wan 
glitter 
Of  salt-bush  all  around, 
tie  lay  ;  but  l\y  his  side  in  that  dark,  ])itter, 
Last  hour,  a  friend  he  found. 
191 


nrs  MATE 

"  Tliank  God  !  "  he  said.     "  Hc'n  acted  more  than 
square,  mate, 
By  me  iu  this — and  I'm 

A  Rip lie  must  have  known  I  was — well, 

there,  mate — 
A  White  Man  all  the  time. 

'^To-morrow's  Christmas  day  :  God  knows  where 
I'll  be 
By  then — I  don't ;  but  you 
Away  from  this  Death's  hole  should  many  a  mile 
be, 
At  Blake's,  on  the  Barcoo. 

"You  take  this  cheque  there — they  will  cash  it, 
sonny 

It  meant  my  Clirlstmas  spree  .... 
And  do  just  what  you  like  best  with  the  money, 

In  memory  of  me.'^ 

The  stranger,  smilint)-,  witli  a  little  leaven 
Of  irony,  said,  "  Yea, 

192 


UlS    MATE 

But  tJicre  it  sliall  not  be.     With  me  in  Heaven 
You^ll  spend  your  Cliristmas  Day." 

Then  that  gray  hoathen_,  that  old  back-block 

stager, 
Half-jestiiigly  replied, 
Audlauglied — and  laughed  again — "Mate,  it's 

a  wager  !  " 
And,  grimly  laughing,  died. 


St.  Peter  stood  at  the  Celestial  Portal, 

Gazing  down  gulfs  of  air. 
When  Andy  l')lane,  no  longer  now  a  mortal, 

Appeared  before  him  there. 

"  What  scek'st  thou  here  ?"  the  saint  in  tone 
ironic 
Said.     "  Surely  the  wrong  gate 
This  is  for  thee."     Andy  replied,  laconic, 
"  I  want  to  find  my  mate." 
193 


Ills    MATE 

The  g-ates  flew  wide.     The  ghory  unbeholden 

Of  jnortal  eyes  was  there. 
He  gazed — this  trenibhng  sinner — at  the  golden 

Thrones^  terrible  and  fair. 

And  shuddered.     Then  down  through  the  living 
splendour 
Came  One  unto  the  gate 
Who  said,  with  outspread  hands,  in  accents 
tendcu- : 
"Andy  !  /  am  your  mate  \" 


194 


THE  OLD  WIFE  AND  THE  NEW 

He  sat  beneath  the  curling  vines 

That  round  the  gay  verandah  twined. 

His  forehead  seamed  with  sorrow's  lines, 
An  old  man  with  a  weary  mind. 

His  young  wife,  with  a  rosy  face 

And  brown  arms  ambered  by  the  sun, 

Went  flitting  all  about  the  place — 
Master  and  mistress  both  in  one. 

What  caused  that  old  man's  look  of  care  ? 

Was  she  not  blithe  and  fair  to  see  ? 
What  blacker  than  her  raven  hair. 

What  darker  than  her  eyes  might  be  ' 
195 


THE   OLD    WIffi    AMD   THE   NEW 

The  old  man  bent  his  weary  head ; 

The  sunlight  on  his  gray  hair  shone ; 
His  thoughts  were  with  a  woman  dead 

And  buried,  years  and  years  agone : 

The  good  old  wife  who  took  her  stand 

Beside  him  at  the  altar-side, 
And  walked  with  him,  hand  clasped  in  hand, 

Through  joy  and  sorrow  till  she  died. 

Ah.  she  was  tair  as  heart's  desire, 

And  gay.  and  supple-limbed,  in  truth. 

And  in  his  veins  there  leapt  like  fire 
The  hot  red  blood  of  lusty  youth. 

She  stood  by  him  in  shine  and  shade, 
And,  when  hard-beaten  at  his  best. 

She  took  him  like  a  child  and  laid 
His  aching  head  upon  her  breast. 

She  helped  him  make  a  little  home 

Where  once  were  gum-trees  gaunt  and  stark, 

And  bloodwoods  waved  green-feathered  foam — 
Working  from  dawn  of  day  to  dark, 
iq6 


THE    OLD    WIFE    AND    THE    NEW 

Till  that  dark  forest  formed  a  frame 

For  vineyards  that  the  gods  might  bless. 

And  what  was  savage  once  became 
An  Eden  in  the  wilderness. 

And  how  at  their  first  vintage-time 

She  laughed  and  sang — jou  see  such  shapes 

On  vases  of  the  Grecian  prime — 
And  danced  a  reel  upon  the  grapes ! 

And  ever,  as  the  years  went  on, 

All  things  she  kept  with  thrifty  hand. 

Till  never  shone  the  sun  upon 
A  fairer  homestead  in  the  land. 

Then  children  came — ah,  me  !  ah,  me  ! 

Sad  blessings  that  a  mother  craves ! 
That  old  man  from  his  seat  could  see 

The  shadows  playing  o'er  their  graves. 

And  then  she  closed  her  eyes  at  last, 
Her  gentle,  useful,  peaceful  life 
197 


THE    OLD    WIFE    AND   THE    NEW 

Was  over — garnered  with  the  past ; 
God  rest  thee  gently,  Good  Old  Wife  1 


His  young  wife  has  a  rosy  face, 

And  laughs,  with  reddest  lips  apart, 

But  cannot  fill  the  empty  place 

Within  that  old  man's  lonely  heart. 

His  young  wife  has  a  rosy  face, 

And  brown  arms  ambered  by  the  sun, 

Goes  flitting  all  about  the  place. 
Master  and  mistress  botli  in  one ; 

But  though  she  sings,  or  though  she  sighs, 
He  sees  her  not — he  sees  instead 

A  gray-haired  Shade  with  gentle  eyes — 
The  good  old  wife,  long  dead,  loug  dead. 

He  sits  beneath  the  curling  vines. 

Through  which  the  merry  sunrays  dart, 

His  forehead  seamed  with  sorrow's  lines — 
An  old  man  with  a  broken  heart. 
198 


A  CHRISTMAS  EVE 

Good  fellows  are  laughing  and  drinkinj 

(To-night  no  heart  should  grieve), 
But  I  am  of  old  days  thinking, 

Alone,  on  Christmas  Eve. 
Old  memories  fast  are  springing 

To  life  again  ;  old  rhymes 
Once  moYG  in  my  brain  are  ringing— 

Ah,  God  be  with  old  times  ! 

There  never  was  man  so  lonely 
But  ghosts  walked  him  beside. 

For  Death  our  spirits  can  only 
By  veils  of  sense  divide. 

Numberless  as  the  blades  of 
Grass  in  the  fields  that  grow, 
199 


A  CHRISTMAS    EVE 

Around  us  hover  the  shades  of 
The  dead  of  long  ago. 

Friends  living  a  word  estranges ; 

We  smile,  and  we  say  "  Adieu  ! " 
But,  whatsoever  else  changes, 

Dead  friends  are  faithful  and  true. 
An  old-time  tune,  or  a  flower, 

The  simplest  thing  held  dear 
In  bygone  days  has  the  power 

Once  more  to  bring  them  near. 

And  whether  it  be  through  thinking 

Of  memories  sad  and  sweet. 
Or  hearing  the  cheery  clinking 

Of  glasses  across  the  street, 
I  know  not ;  but  this  is  certain 

That,  here  in  the  dusk,  I  view 
Like  shadows  seen  through  a  curtain, 

The  shades  of  the  friends  I  knew. 

Methinks  that  I  hear  their  laughter — 
An  echo  of  ghostly  mirth. 


A  CHRISTMAS    EVE 

As  if  in  the  dim  Hereafter 

They  jest  as  they  did  on  earth. 

The  fancy  possibly  droll  is. 
And  yet  it  relieves  my  mind 

To  think  the  enfranchised  soul  is 
So  humorously  inclined. 

But  liark  !  whose  steps  in  tho  glancing 

Moonbeams  are  these  I  hear, 
That  sound  as  if  timed  to  dancing 

Music  of  gallant  cheer  ! 
Half  Galahad,  half  Don  Juan, 

His  head  full  of  wild  romance ; 
'Twas  thus  that  of  old  would  Spruhan 

Come  lilting,  "  We  met  by  chance." 

Sure  never  a  spirit  lighter 

At  heart  quaffed  mountain  dew  ; 

Never  was  goblin  brighter 
That  Oberon's  kingdom  knew. 

And  though  at  this  season  yearly 
I  miss  the  grasp  of  his  hand, 


A  CHRISTMAS    EVE 


I  know  til  at  Spruhan  has  merely 
Gone  back  to  Fairyland. 


Tlie  sliades  grow  dimmer  and  dimmer, 

And  now  they  fade  from  view, 
I  see  in  the  East  the  glimmer 

Of  dawn.  Old  friends,  adieu  ! 
Sitting  here,  lonely  hearted, 

Writing  these  random  rhymes. 
I  drink  to  the  days  departed. — 

Ah,  God  be  with  old  times ! 


202 


NIGHT 

The  Night  is  young  yet;  an  enchanted  night 
In  early  summer  :  calm  and  darkly  bright. 

I  love  the  Night,  and  every  little  breeze 
She  brings,  to  soothe  the  sleep  of  dreaming 
trees. 

Hearst  thou  the  Voices  ?    Sough !  Suaurrua ! — 

Hark! 
'Tis  Mother  Nature  whispering  in  the  dark  ! 

Burden  of  cities,  mad  turmoil  of  men, 

That  vex  the  daylight — she  forgets  them  then. 

Her  breasts  are  bare ;  Grief  gains  from  them 

surcease : 
She  gives  her  restless  sons  the  milk  of  Peace. 
203 


NIGHT 


To  sleep  slie  lulls  them — drawn  from  tli oughts 

of  pelf — 
By  telling  sweet  old  stories  of  herself. 


All  secrets  deep — yea,  all  I  hear  and  see 
Of  things  mysterious — Night  reveals  to  me. 

I  know  what  every  flower,  with  drowsy  head 
Down-drooping,  dreams  of — and  the  seeming 
dead. 

I  know  how  they,  escaped  from  care  and  strife. 
Ironically  moralise  on  Life. 

And  know  what — when  the  moon  walks  on  the 

waves — 
They  whisper  to  each  other  in  their  graves. 

I  know  that  white  clouds  di  if  ting  from  stark 

coasts 
Across  the  sky  at  midnight  are  the  ghosts 

Of  sailors  drowned  at  sea,  who  yearn  to  win 
A  quiet  grave  beside  their  kith  and  kin 
204 


NIGHT 

In  still  green  graveyards,  where  they  lie  at  ease 
Far  from  the  sound  of  surge  and  roar  of  seas. 

I  know  the  message  of  the  mournful  rain 
That  beats  upon  the  widow's  window-pane. 

I  know  the  meaning  of  the  roar  of  seas ; 

I  know  the  glad  Spring  sap-song  of  the  trees ; 

And  that  great  chant  to  which  in  tuneful  grooves 
The  green  round  earth  upon  its  axis  moves; 

And  that   still  greater   chant    the    Bright    Sun 

sings — 
Fire-crowned  Apollo — the  great  chant  that  brings 

All  things  to  life,  and  draws  through  spaces  dim, 
And  star-sown  realms,  his  planets  after  him. 

I  know  the  tune  that  led,  since  Life  began. 
The  upward,  downward,  onward  March  of  Man. 

I  hear  the  whis])ers  that  the  Angels  twain 
Of  Death  and  Life  exchange  in  meeting — fain 
205 


NIGHT 

Are  tliey  to  pause  and  greet,  yet  may  not  stay. 
"Never!"     "^Forever."     This  is  all  they  say. 

I  hear  the  twitterings  inarticulate 

Of  souls  unborn  that  press  around  the  Gate 

Of  Birth,  each  striving  which  shall  first  escape 
From  formless  vapour  into  human  shape. 

I  know  the  tale  the  bird  of  passionate  heart. 
The  nightingale,  tries  ever  to  impart 

To  men,  though  vainly — for  I  well  believe 
That  in  her  brown  breast  beats  the  heart  of  Eve, 

Who  with  her  sweet,  sad,  wistful  music  tries 
To  tell  her  sons  of  their  lost  Paradise, 

And  solemn  seci*ets  Man  had  grace  to  know, 
When  God  walked  in  the  Garden  long  ago. 


Yea,  I  have  seen,  methought,  on  nights  of  awe. 
The  vision  terrible  Lucretius  saw  : 
206 


NIGHT 

The  trembling  Universe — suns^  starr,^  grief, 

bliss — 
Plunging  for  ever  down  a  black  abyss. 

But  more  I  love  good  Bisliop  Jeremy, 

Who  likens  all  tlie  star-worlds  that  we  see — 

Which  seem  to  run  an  everlasting  race — 
Unto  a  snowstorm  sweeping  on  through  space. 

Suns,  planets,  stars,  in  glorious  array 

They  march,  melodious,  on  their  unknown  way. 

Thought,  seraph-winged  and  swifter  than  the 

light, 
Unto  the  dim  verge  of  the  Infinite, 

Pursues  them,  through  that  strange  ethereal 

flood 
In  which  they  swim  (mayhap  it  is  the  blood 

Of  Universal  God  wherein  they  are 

But  corpuscles — sun,  satellite,  and  star — 

207 


NIGHT 

And  tlieir  great  stream  of  glory  but  a  dim. 
Small  pulse  in  the  remotest  vein  of  Him) 

Pursues  in  vain,  and  from  lone,  awful  glooms 
Turns  back  to  earth  again  with  weary  plumes. 


Through  glacial  gulfs  of  Space  the  soul  must 
roam 

To  feel  the  comfort  of  its  earthly  home. 

Ah,  Mother  dear  !  broad-bosomed  Mother  Earth ! 
Mother  of  all  our  Joy,  Grief,  Madness,  Mirth! — 

Mother  of  flower  and  fruit,  of  stream  and  sea! — 
We  are  thy  children  and  must  cling  to  thee. 

I  lay  my  head  upon  thy  breast  and  hear — 
Small,  small  and  faint,  yet  strangely  sweet  and 
clear — 

The  hum  and  clash  of  little  worlds  below. 
Each  on  its  own  path  moving,  swift  or  slow. 
208 


NIGHT 


And  listening,  ever  with  intentcr  ear, 
Tlirouffli  din  of  wars  invisible  I  hoar 


'£>" 


A  Homer — genius  is  not  gauged  by  mass — 
Singing  his  Iliad  on  a  blade  of  grass. 

And  nations  hearken  :  his  great  song  resounds 
Unto  the  tussock's  very  utmost  bounds. 

States  rise  and  fall,  each  blade  of  grass  upon, 
But  still  his  song  from  blade  to  blade  rolls  on 

Through  all  the  tussock-world,  and  Helen  still 
Is  Fairest  Fair,  and  Ajax  wild  of  will — 

An  Ajax  whose  huge  size,  when  measured  o'er. 
Is  full  ten-thousandth  of  an  inch  or  more — - 

Still  hurls  defiance  at  the  gods  whose  home 
Is  in  the  distant,  awful,  dew-drop  dome 

That  trembling  hangs,  suspended  from  a  spray 
An  inch  above  him — worlds  of  space  away. 
ao9 


NIGHT 


Old  prophecies  foretell — but  Time  proves  all — 
The  day  will  come  when  it^  like  Troy,  shall  fall. 

Lo  !  through  this  small  great  wondrous  song  there 

runs 
The  marching  melody  of  stars  and  suns. 


I  know  these  things,  yet  cannot  speak  and  tell 
Their  meanings.     Over  all  is  cast  a  spell. 

Secrets  they  are,  sealed  with  a  sevenfold  seal ; 
My  soul  knows  what  my  tongue  may  not  reveal. 


I  love  the  Night !     Bright  Day  the  soul  shuts  in ; 
Night  sends  it  soaring  to  its  starry  kin. 

If  I  must  leave  at  last  my  place  of  birth — 
This  homely,  gracious,  green,  familiar  Earth, 

With  all  it  holds  of  sorrow  and  delight — 
I  pray  my  parting-hour  may  be  at  night, 

8IO 


WIGHT 

And  that  her  curtain  dark  may  softly  fall 
On  Bcenes  I  love,  ere  I  depart  from  all. 

Then  shall  I  haply,  journeying  through  the  Vast 
Mysterious  Silences,  take  one  long,  last 

Fond  look  at  Earth,  and  watch  from  depths  afav 
The  dear  old  planet  dwindling  to  a  star; 

And  sigh  farewell  unto  the  friends  of  yore, 
Whose  kindly  faces  I  shall  see  no  more. 


Bloxham  &  Chambers,  Printers,  Wentworth  Place,  Sydney. 


Catalogue  of  books 

PUBLISHED   BY 

ANGUS  &  ROBERTSON 

LIMITED 

PUBLISHERS    TO    THE    UNIVERSITY 
89  CASTLEREAGH  STREET,  SYDNEY 


«£^ 


The  books  in  this  Catalogue  may  be  obtained  through 
any  Bookseller  in  Australia,  New  Zealand  and 
all  other  English-speaking  Countries. 

Intending  purchasers  are  requested  to  write  direct 
to  the  publishers  if  they  have  any  difficulty  in 
obtaining  the  books  required. 

English  and  Foreign  trade  orders  should  be  sent  to 
the  publishers  whose  names  appear  in  the  body  of 
the  Catalogue ;  where  no  other  name  appears, 
they  should  be  serxt  to  the  Oxford  University 
Prey's,   Amen  Corner,   London,   E.C. 

The  costs  of  postage  stnted  herein  apply  only  to 
the  Commonwealth  of  Australia. 

Jnhj,    1914. 


NEW   AND    FORTHCOMING   PUBLICATIONS. 

The  following  new  books   and  new  editions   are   described 
on  the  pages  indicated:  — 

The  Three  Kings    (Verses).     By  Will  Lawson    ..          ..  3 

Ah  Soon    (Verse  and  Prose).     By  Henry  Lawson            ..  3 

Book  of  Australian  Verse  for  Boys  and  Girls           . .  3 

New  Volumes  in  Commonwealth  Series  .  .          . .         . .  10 

Scribbling  Sue    ( Stories  for  Children ) .     By  A.  E.   Mack  1 1 

Gem  of  the  Flat   (for  Children).     By  C.  Mackness       ..  11 

The  Charm  of  Sydney           .  .          . .          .  .          .  .          .  .  12 

Early  Records  of  the  Macarthurs  of  Camden  .  .          . .  13 

Life  of  Mattheav  Flinders.     By  Professor  Ernest  Scott  13 

History  of  the  Aust.  Bushrangers.       By  G.  E.  Boxall  15 

PoptfLAB  Guide  to  N.S.W.  Wild  Flowers.   By  F.  Salman  16 

Familiar  Aust.  Wild  Flowers.     By  A.  E.  Suhnan  16 

Butterflies  of  Australia.     By  Waterhouse  and  Lyell  .  .  17 

Geology  of  IS'*ew  South  Wales.     By  C.  A.  Siissniilch  . .  17 

Australian  House  Drainage  Practice.     By  H.  G.  Wills  17 
Australian   Military   Handbooks             . .         . .           19, 20 

The  PlxVce  of  the  Social  Sciences  in  a  Modern  LTni- 

versity.     By   Professor  R.   F.   Irvine    .  .          .  .          .  .  21 

Common  Sense  Household  Cookery  Book           . .         . .  23 


"SNOWY    RIVER"    SERIES. 


THE  THREE  KINGS,  AND  OTHER  VERSES. 

By  Will  Lawson.    With  portrait.    Cloth  gilt,  gilt  top, 
3s.  (jd. ;  full  morocco,  gilt  edges,  6s.   {postage  2d.) 

[Shortly. 
Will  Lawson  is  a  New  Zealander  who,  through  the  Bulletin, 
has  made   an  Australasian  reputation.     His   verses   are  bright 
and  lively,  in  the  Kipling  manner,  and  full  of  human  interest. 


AH  SOON,  AND  OTHER  STORIES 
AND  VERSES. 

By  Henry  Lawson.  Cloth  gilt,  giit  top,  3s.  6d.;  full 
morocco,    gilt   edges,    (Js.    (posiage   2d.) 

[Shorlly. 
This  volume  contains  the  best  of  Air.  Lawson's  more  recent 
work,   and   some   older    pieces   which   have   not   previously   ap- 
peared in  book  form.     It  is  sure  of  a  hearty  welcome  from  his 
large  circle  of  readers. 

A  BOOK  OF  AUSTRALIAN  VERSE 
FOR  BOYS  AND  GIRLS. 

Edited,  with  Introduction  and  Notes,  by  Bertram 
Stevens  and  George  Mackaness,  M.A.  With 
numerous  portraits.  Cloth  gilt,  gdt  top,  3s.  6d. ; 
full   morocco,   gilt   edges,   6s.    (postage  2d.) 

[Shortly. 
This  book  is  thoroughly  representative  of  the  best  Aus- 
tralian verse,  and,  although  intended  mainly  as  a  selection 
suitable  for  young  folks,  it  contains  many  pieces  favoured  by 
older  readers.  A  number  of  the  poems  are  not  obtainable  in 
any  other  book. 

THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 
OF  AUSTRALIAN  VERSE. 

Edited,    with     Introduction    and   Notes,   by   Bertram 
Stevens.     New   (fourth)   edition,  revised  and  en- 
larged.    Cloth  gilt,  gilt  top,  3s.  6d.;  full  morocco, 
gilt  edges,   6s.    {postage  2d.) 
Athexaeuai  :    "May    be    regarded    as    representative    of    the 
best  short  pieces  written  by  Australians  or  inspired  by  life  in 
Australia  or  New  Zealand." 

London:  Macmillan  <&  Co.,  Limited. 


"  SNOWY    RIVER "    SERIES. 


WHERE  THE  DEAD  MEN  LIE 
AND  OTHER  POEMS. 

By  Barcroft  Henry  Boake.     Second  edition,  revised 
and  enlarged^  with  memoir,  portraits,  and  32  illus- 
trations.    Cloth  gilt,  gilt  top,  3s.  Gd. ;  full  morocco, 
gilt  edges,  6s.   {postage  2d.) 
J.  Brunton  Stephens,  in  The  Bulletin:  "Boake's  work  is 
often  praised  for  its  local  colour;  but  it  has  sometliing  better 
than   that.     It   has   atmosphere — Australian   atmosphere,    that 
makes   you   feel   the   air   of   the   place — breathe   the   breath   of 
the  life?' 

AT  DAWN  AND  DUSK:  Poems. 

By  Victor  J.  Daley.     Fourth  edition.     With  photo- 
gTavure    portrait.      Cloth   gilt,   gilt   top,   3s.    6d.; 
full  morocco,  gilt  edges,  6s.  {postage  2d.) 
Bookman:   "These  verses  are  full  of  poetic  fancy  musically 
expressed." 

Sydney  Morning  Herald:  "The  indefinable  charm  is  here, 
and  the  spell,  and  the  music.  ...  A  distinct  advance  for 
Australian  verse  in  ideality,  in  grace  and  polish,  in  the  study 
of  the  rarer  forms  of  verse,  and  in  the  true  faculty  of  poetic 
feeling  and  expression."      

WINE  AND  ROSES:  A  New  Volume  of  Poems. 

By  Victor  J.  Daley.  With  portrait.  Cloth  gilt,  gilt 
top,  3s.  6d. ;  full  morocco,  gilt  edges,  6s.  {postage 

2d.) 
Daily  Telegraph:  "Most  of  his  verse  is  tinged  with  sad- 
ness— as  in  most  Irish  poetry — but  there  is  a  fine  imaginative 
quality  that  lifts  it  to  a  far  higher  plane  than  that  of  the 
conventional  melanchoh'  rhymer.  There  are  poems  in  this 
book  that  recall  the  magic  of  Rossetti  ....  Victor  Daley 
has  left  his  mark  in  the  beginnings  of  an  Australian  literature." 

HOW  HE  DIED,  AND  OTHER  POEMS. 

By  John  Farrell.  Fourth  edition.  With  memoir, 
appreciations,  and  photogravure  portrait.  Cloth 
gilt,  gilt  top,  3s.  6d. ;  full  morocco,  gilt  edges,  6s. 

{postage  2d.) 

Melbourne  Age:    "Farrell's  contrilnitions  to  the  literature 

of  tlds  country  were  always  distini:;uished  by  a  fine,   stirring 

optimism,    a   genuine    sympathy,   and   an   idealistic   sentiment, 

which  in  the  book  under  notice  find  their  fullest  expression." 


"SNOWY     RIVER"     SERIES. 


THE  MAN  FROM  SNOWY  RIVER, 
AND  OTHER  VERSES. 

By  A.  B.  Paterson.     Fifty-seventh  thousand.     With 
photogravure   portrait   and   vignette   title.      Clotb 
gilt,  gilt  top,  3s.  6d. ;  full  morocco,  gilt  edges,  0 i. 
{postage  2d.) 
Athenaeum:    "Swinging,  rattling  ballads  of  ready  humour, 
ready   pathos,   and   crowding   adventure  .  .  .  Stirring   and   en- 
tertaining ballads  about  great  rides,  in  which  the  lines  gallop 
like  the  very  hoofs  of  the  horses." 

London:  Macmillan  S  Co.,  Limited. 

RIO  GRANDE'S  LAST  RACE, 
AND  OTHER  VERSES. 

By  A.   B.   Paterson.     Seventeenth  thousand.     Cloth 
gilt,  gilt  top,  3s.  6d. ;  full  moroeeo,  gilt  edges,  6s 
(postage  2d.) 
Spectator:  "There  is  no  mistaking  the  vigour  of  Mr.  Pater- 
son's  verse;   there  is  no  difficulty  in  feeling  the  strong  human 
interest  which  moves  in  it." 

London:  Macmillan  S  Co.,  Limited. 


THE  POETICAL  WORKS  OF 
BRUNT  ON  STEPHENS. 

As  finally    revised    by    the    author,    re-arranged   and 
printed  from  new   type,   with   ]")hotogravure  por- 
trait.    Cloth  gilt,  gilt  top,  3s.  6d. ;  full  morocco, 
gilt  edges,  6s.    (postage  2d:) 
The  Times:  "This  collection  of  the  works  of  the  Queensland 
poet,   who   lias  for  a  generation  deservedly  held   a  high   place 
in  Australian  literature,  well  deserves  study." 

Daily  News:  "In  turning  over  the  pages  of  this  volume, 
one  is  struck  by  his  breadth,  his  versatility,  his  compass,  as 
evidenced  in  theme,  sentiment,  and  style." 

THE  SECRET  KEY,  AND  OTHER  VERSES. 

By  George  Essex  Evans.     Second  edition,  with  por- 
trait.    Cloth  gilt,  gilt  top,  3s.  6d. ;  full  morocco, 
gilt  edges,  6s.   (postage  2d.) 
Glasgow     Herald:      "Tliere     is  .  .  .  the     breath     of     that 
apparently  immortal  spirit  which  has  inspired  .  ."  .  almost  all 
that  is  best  in  English  higher  sonsj." 

The  Bookman:  "Mr.  Evans  has  written  many  charming  and 
musical    poems  .  .   .  manv   pretty   and    haunting   lines." 

5 


SNOWY     RIVER "     SERIES. 


7A^  THE  DAYS  WHEN  THE  WORLD  WAS  WIDE, 
AND  OTHER  VERSES. 

By    Henry    Lawson.      Twentieth    thousanrl.       With 
photogravure  portrait.    Cloth  gilt,  g-ilt  top,  3s.  6d. ; 
full  morocco,  gilt  edges,  6s.   (postage  2d.) 
For  cheaper  edition  see  Commonwealth  Series. 
The  Academy:    "These  ballads    (for  such  they  mostly  are) 
abound  in  spirit  and  manhood,  in  the  colour  and  smell  of  Aus- 
tralian soil.     They  deserve  the  popularity  which  they  have  won 
in  Australia,  and  which,  we  trust,  this  edition  will  now  give 
them  in  England." 

VERSES,  POPULAR  AND  HUMOROUS. 

By    Henry    Lawson.      Eighteenth    thousand.      Cloth 
gilt,  gilt  top,  3s.  6d. ;  full  morocco,  gilt  edges,  6s. 
(postag-e  2d.) 
For  cheaper  edition  see  Commonioealth  Series. 
New   York    Journal:    "Such    pride    as    a    man    feels    when 
he    has    true    greatness    as    his    guest,    this    newspaper    feels 
in  introducing  to  a  million  readers  a  man  of  ability  hitherto 
unknown  to  them.     Henrv  Lawson  is  his  name." 


WHEN  I  WAS  KING,  AND  OTHER  VERSES. 

By   Henry   Lawson.     Tenth   thousand.      Cloth    gilt, 
gilt    top,    3s.    6d. ;    full    morocco,  gilt   edges,   Gs. 
(postage  2d.) 
Also  in  two  parts,  entitled  "When  I  Was  King"  and  "The 

Elder  Son"  (see  Commoniccalth  Series). 
The  Spectator:  "A  good  deal  of  humour,  a  great  deal 
of  spirit,  and  a  robust  philosophy  are  the  main  characteristics 
of  these  Australian  poets.  Because  they  write  of  a  world 
they  know,  and  of  feelings  they  have  themselves  shared  in, 
they  are  far  nearer  the  heart  of  poetry  than  the  most  accom- 
plished devotees  of  a  literary  tradition." 


ON  THE  TRACK  AND  OVER  THE  SLIPRAILS. 

By  Henry  Lawson.     Twentieth  thousand.     Cloth  gilt, 
gilt   top,    3s.    6d. ;    full    morocco,    gilt    edges,    6s. 
(postage  2d.) 
For  cheaper  edition  see  Commonrcealth  Series. 
Daily    Chronicle:    "Will   well    sustain   the    reputation    its 
author  has  already  won  as  the  best  writer  of  Australian  short 
stories  and  sketches." 

6 


SNOWY     RIVER "     SERIES. 


WHILE  THE  BILLY  BOILS. 

By  Henry  Lawson.     Wth  eiffht  illustrations  by  F.  P. 
Mahony.       Thirty-second    thousand.       Cloth  gilt, 
gilt    top,    3s.    6d. ;    full    morocco,    gilt  edges,  6s. 
(postage  2d.) 
For  cheaper  edition  see  Commoniccalth  Series. 

The  Academy:  "A  book  of  honest,  direct,  sympathetic, 
humorous  writing  about  Australia  from  within  is  worth  a 
library  of  travellers'  tales  .  .  .  The  result  is  a  real  book — a 
book  in  a  hundred.  His  language  is  terse,  supple,  and  richly 
idiomatic.     He  can  tell  a  yarn  with  the  best." 


CHILDREN  OF  THE  BUSH. 

By  Henry  Lawson.  Eleventh  thousand.  Cloth  gilt, 
gilt  top,  3s.  6d. ;  full  morocco,  gilt  edges,  6s. 
(postage  2d.) 

Also  in  two  parts,  entitled  "Send  Round  the  Eat"  and  "The 
Romance  of  the  Swag"   (see  Commonicealth  Scries). 

The  Bulletin:  "These  stories  are  the  real  Australia, 
written  by  the  foremost  living  Australian  author  .  .  .  Lawson's 
genius  remains  as  vivid  and  human  as  when  he  first  boiled 
his  literary  billy." 


JOE  WILSON  AND  HIS  MATES. 

By  Henry  Lawson.     Eleventh  thousand.     Cloth  gilt, 
gilt    top,    3s.    6d.;    full    morocco,    gilt    edges,    6s. 
(postage  2d.) 
For  cheaper  edition  see  Commonwealth  Series. 

The  Athenaeum:  "This  is  a  long  way  the  best 
work  Mr.  Lawson  has  yet  given  us.  These  stories  are  so  good 
that  (from  the  literary  point  of  view  of  course)  one  hopes 
they  are  not  autobiographical.  As  autobiography  they  would 
be  good,  as  jnire  fiction  thej^  are  more  of  an  attainment." 

London :   Wm.  Blackwood  if-  Sons. 


SNOWY    RIVER"     SERIES,     ETC. 


FAIR  GIRLS  AND  GRAY  HORSES, 
WITH  OTHER  VERSES. 

By   Will   H.    Ogilvie.      Revised   edition,   completing 
tAventietli   thousand.     With   portrait.      Cloth   gilt, 
gilt   top,    3s.     6d. ;    full    morocco,  gilt  edges,   6s. 
{postage  2d.) 
Scotsman  :   "Its  verses  draw  their  natural  inspiration  from 
the  camp,  the  cattle  trail,  and  the  bush ;  and  their  most  charac- 
teristic   and   compelling   rhythms   from   the   clatter   of   horses' 
hoofs." 


HEARTS  OF  GOLD,  AND  OTHER  VERSES. 

By  Will  H.  Ogilvie.     rourtb  thousand.     Cloth  gilt, 

gilt    top,    3s.    6d. ;     full    morocco,   gilt  edges,   6s. 

{postage  2d.) 

Daily  Telegraph:    "Will  be  welcomed  by  all  who  love  the 

stirring    music    and    strong    masculine    feeling    of    this    poet's 

verse." 


LAURENCE   HOPE'S 
LOVE  LYRICS. 

Uniformly  bound    in    fancy    boards  with   cloth  back. 
5s.    {postage  3d.)   per  volume. 
THE     GARDEN     OF     KAMA. 

Daily  Chronicle:  "No  one  has  so  truly  interpreted  the 
Indian  mind — no  one,  transcribing  Indian  thought  into  our 
literature,  has  retained  so  high  and  serious  a  level,  and  quite 
apart  from  the  rarity  of  themes  and  setting— the  verses  remain 
—true  poems." 

STAR^     OF     THE    DESERT. 

Outlook:  "It  is  not  merely  that  these  verses  describe 
Oriental  scenes  and  descril-ye  them  with  vividness,  there  is  a 
feeling  in  the  rhythm — a  timbre  of  the  words  that  seems  akin 
to  the  sand  and  palm-trees  and  the  changeless  East." 

INDIAN     LOVE. 

Spectator  :  "The  poetry  of  Laurence  Hope  must  hold  a 
unique  place  in  modern  letters.  No  woman  has  written  lines 
so  full  of  a  strange  primeval  savagery — a  havmting  music — 
the  livin?  force  of  poetry." 

London :    William   Heinemann. 
8 


MISCELLANEOUS. 


TO-MORBOW :  A  Dramatic  Sketch  of  the  Character  and 
Environment  of  Ttohert  Greene. 

By    J.    Le     Gay    Brereton.      Paper  cover,   Is.   6d. 
{postage  Id.) 
Sydney   Morning    Herald:    "The   first   Australian   play   of 
literary  worth." 


SONGS  OF  A  SUNLIT  LAND. 

By  Colonel  J.   A.   Kenneth  MxVckay.     Cloth  gil-t, 
3s.  6d.   (postage  2d.) 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  COURT.  AND  OTHER 
SKETCHES  IN  PROSE  AND  VERSE. 

By  Henry  Lawson.     With  picture  cover    (Common- 
wealth Series),  Is.    (postage  Id.) 
Queensland    Times:    "These    stories    show    Lawson    at    his 
best,  and  Lawson  at  his  best  is  not  to  be  beaten  by  short  story 
writers   in  current   literature." 


^A''  OUTBACK  MARRIAGE:  A  Story  of  Australian  Life. 
By  A.   B.   Paterson.     Ninth   thousand,   with    picture 
cover   (Commonwealth  S-eries) ,  Is.   (postage  Id.) 
Scotsman:    "The  chief  virtue  of  the  book  lies  in  its   fresh 
and  vivid  presentment  of  the  wild  life  and  the  picturesque  man- 
ners of  the  Australian  bush,  while  in  form  and  style  it  claims 
recognition   as   a   work  of  considerable  literary  distinction." 


THE  OLD  BUSH  SONGS. 

Collected  and  edited  by  A.  B.  Paterson.     Thirteenth 

thousand,     with    picture     cover     (Commonivealth 

Series),  ]s.    (vostnge  Id.) 

Daily  Telegraph:    "Tviide  and  ruefred  these  old  bush   songs 

are,  but  they  carry  in  their  vicrorous  lines  the  very  impress  of 

their   origin    and    of   their   genuineness  .  .   .  Mr.    Paterson    has 

done  his  work  like  an  artist." 


COOS  AND  WOOD  THINGS. 

By  L.  H.  Allen.  Paper  boards,  Is.  (postage  "[d.) 
Sydney  Morning  Herald:  "Mr.  AlTen  is  one  of  the  select 
band  who  are  saturated  with  classic  lore  and  who  seek  to 
translate  the  beings  of  nacan  mythology  to  the  Australian 
bush.  'Hods  and  Wood  Thincrs'  contains  both  r<Tose  and  verse 
— the  latter  rhap.sodii^al.  the  former  mystical." 


CHEAP     REPRINTS. 


THE  COMMONWEALTH  SERIES. 

Picture  covers,  Is.  per  volume  {postage  Id.) 

BY     HENRY     LAWSON. 

Prose. 
Ah  Soon 

While  the  Billy  Boils   (First  and  Second  Series) 
On  the  Track 
Over  the  Sliprails 
Joe  Wilson 
Joe  Wilson's  Mates 
Send  Round  the  Hat 
The  Romance  of  the  Swag 

Verse. 

When  the  World  was  Wide   (First  and  Second  Series) 

Popular  Verses 

FUaioRous  Verses 

When  I  Was  King 

The  Elder  Son 

The  Rising  of  the  Court   (Contains  Prose  also) 

BY    A.    B.    PATERSON. 

Rio  Orande's  Last  Race   (First  and  Second  Series) 

An  Outback  Marriage   (full-length  novel) 

The  Old  Bush  Songs   (edited  only  by  Mr.  Paterson) 

BY    WILL    OGILVIE. 

Fair  Oirls      "^  A  reprint  in  two  parts  of  the  favourite  volume. 
Gray  Horses  )  "Fair  Girls  and  Gray  Horses." 

BY   BRUNTON  STEPHENS. 
My  Chinee  Cook,  and  Other  Humorous  Verses 

BY    CHARLES    WHITE. 

History  of  Australian  Bushranging  (in  4  parts,  each  com- 
plete in  itself,  and  well  illustrated) — The  Early  Davs: 
1850  to   1862;    1863  to   1869;    1869  to  1878 

BY    GEORGE    E.    BOXALL. 

History  of  the  Australian  Bushrangers — 
Part  I.:  To  the  Time  of  Frank  Gardiner 
Part  II.:  To  the  End  of  the  Kelly  Gang 

in 


BOOKS     FOR     CHILDEEN. 


BUSHLAND  STORIES. 

By    Amy    Eleanor    Mack.       Seconrl     edition,    with 

coloured   illustrations   and   decorated    cloth   cover, 

3s.   6d.    (postage  2d.)  [Shortly. 

Academy:    "It   is   not  often   that   we   have   the   pleasure   to 

welcome  from   Australia   a   hook   of   so   many   charming   short 

stories  as  are  contained  in  the  volume  hefore  us." 

Scotsman:  "Charming  and  simple  nursery  tales,  appetisingly 
touched  with  local  colour  of  the  Bush." 

BiRMiNGHAsr  Daily  Post:    "There  is  a  daintiness  and  dis- 
tinct charm  in  these  fairy  tales." 


SCRIBBLING  SUE,  AND  OTHER  STORIES. 

By  Amy  Eleanor  Mack.  With  coloured  and  other 
illustrations  and  decorated  cloth  cover,  3s.  6d. 
(postage  2d.)  [Shortly. 

These  stories  are  written  in  the  same  happy  vein  as  "Bush- 
land  Stories."  Miss  Mack's  intense  love  of  nature  is  reflected 
in  all  her  books,  and  her  readers,  both  young  and  old,  are  at 
once  attracted  by  the  natural  ring  of  her  work. 


GEM  OF  THE  FLAT:  A  Story  of  Young  Australians. 

By  Constance  Mackness.     With  coloured  and  other 

illustrations    and    decorated    cloth    cover,  3s.   6d. 

(postage  2d.)  [Shortly. 

"Gem  of  the  Flat"  is  a  story  of  Australian  bush  children. 

The  local  colouring  is  distinctly  good ;   the  children  are  alive. 

and  talk  like  real  children:  the  incidents  are  natural  and  well 

described.     The  style  is  fresh,  the  dialogue  well  managed,  and 

the  story  as  a  wdiole  is  interesting  and  pleasant,  with  a  good 

tone  about  it. 

DOT  AND  THE  KANGAROO. 

By  Ethel  C.  Pedley.     Illustrated  hy  F.  P.  Mahony. 
Third  edition,  with  decorated  cloth  cover,  2s.  6d. 
(postage  2d.)     For  school  edition  see  page  30. 
Sydney  Morning  Herald:  "  'Dot  and  the  Kangaroo'  is  with- 
out doubt  one  of  the  most   charming  books  that  could  be   put 
into  the  hands  of  a  child.     It  is  admirably  illustrated  by  Frank 
P.   Mahony,   who    seems   to    have   entered   thoroughly    into    the 
animal  world  of  Australia.     The  story  is  altogether  Australian. 
...  It   is   told   so   simply,   and   yet   so   artistically,   that  even 
the  'grown-ups'  amongst  us  must  enjoy  it." 

11 


MISCELLANEOUS. 


THE  CHARM  OF  SYDNEY. 

A  collection  of  prose  and  verse  quotations  referring 
to  Sydney  and  surroundings,  chosen  from  the 
works  of  famous  authors  and  travellers,  including 
Robert  Louis  Stevenson,  etc.,  etc.,  with  three- 
colour  frontispiece  and  40  drawings  by  Sydney 
Ure  Smith.  Uniform  with  "A  Bush  Calendar," 
cloth,  3s.  6d.    {postage  Id.)  [Shortly. 


STORIES  OF  OLD  SYDNEY. 

By    Charles    H.    Bertie.      With  53  pen  and  pencil 
drawings  by   Sydney  Ure  Smith.     Cloth  cover, 
printed  in  colours,  3s.  6d.  {postage  Id.) 
Sydney    Morning    Herald:    "A    charming    and    interesting 
little  book  .  .  .  they  live  and  breathe,  and  he  has  contrived  to 
make   actual   to   us   those   remote   and   almost   incredible   days 
.  .  .  Mr.    Smith's   admirable   illustrations   are   an   equally   im- 
portant feature  of  the  book,  which,  in  addition  to  its  interest, 
presents  a  great  antiquarian  value." 


CHRISTOHER  COCKLE'S 

A  US  TRA  T.IAN  EXPERIENCES. 

By  "Old  Boomerang"    (   J.  R.  Houlding).     Revised 

edition,  with  2  portraits.     Cloth  gilt,  5s.   (postage 

2d.) 
Originally  published  under  the  title  "Australian  Capers," 
this  volume  has  been  out  of  print  for  many  years,  and  copies 
which  have  come  into  the  market  secondhand  have  been  pur- 
chased at  enhanced  prices.  The  author  has  at  last  consented 
to  its  republication  and  has  thoroughly  revised  it.  As  a 
picture  of  Australian  life  thirty  or  forty  years  ago  the  book 
is  worthy  of  a  permanent  place  in  our  literatiire.  and  it  con- 
tains plenty  of  fun  and  humour  for  both  old  and  young. 

THE  MOTHER  STATE:  The  Physical  Features,  Natural 
Resources,  Geology,  Scenery,  Climate,  Industries  and 
C omnferce  of  New  South  Wales. 

By  J.  M.  Taylor,  M.A.,  LL.B.  With  S5  illustrations 
and  maps.  Cloth  gilt.  3s.  6d.  (postage  2d.) 
This  is  the  only  up-to-date  cfeneral  description  of  New  South 
Wales  available  for  sending  to  friends  abroad.  All  the  in- 
formation is  drawn  from  the  latest  authentic  sources  and  the 
illustrations  and  maps  add  largely  to  the  book's  interest  and 
value. 

12 


BIOGRAPHY. 


SOME  EARLY  RECORDS  OF  THE  MAC  ARTHURS 
OF  CAMDEN,  1789-1834. 

Edited  by  Sibella  Macarthur  Onslow.  With 
coloured  ijlates  an. 4  numerous  facsimile  reproduc- 
tions of  original  documents.  Cloth  g-ilt,  15s. 
{postage   6d.)  [Just   out. 

This  volume  will  be  recognised  as  a  classic,  g,'iving  at  first 
liund  an  insight  into  the  times  and  the  mode  and  manner  ot 
living  of  a  pioneer  familj-  during  the  first  forty  years  of 
civilised  story  in  Australia,  and  above  all  tlie  trials  of  the 
pioneer  of  the  wool  trade. 


Uniform  loith  the  above. 
LIFE  OF  CAPTAIN  MATTHEW  FLINDERS,  R.N. 

By  Ernest  Scott,  Professor  of  History  in  the  Uni- 
versitj'  of  Melbourne,  author  of  "Terre  Napoleon" 
and  "Life  of  Laperouse."  With  numerous  por- 
traits, maps,  manuscripts  iu  facsimile,  etc.  Clotli 
g-dt,  21s.    {postage  6rf.)  [Just  out. 

Thi-^  is  a  handsome  volume  of  over  500  pages,  octavo,  and 
the  only  adequate  biography  of  Flinders.  Access  has  been  iiad 
to  all  known  sources  of  information,  including  the  Flinders 
family  papers,  the  Decaen  papers  at  Caen,  the  Bibliotlu'que 
Nationale  (Paris),  the  Mitchell  Library  (Sj'dney),  and  the 
Melbourne  Public  Library.  Much  entirely  new  matter  is  now- 
published  for  the  first  time. 


LIFE  OF  LAPEROUSE. 

By  Professor  Ernest  Scott.    With  Chart  of  Voyages 

in  the  Pacific,  and  13  illustrations.     Cloth,  3s.  6d. 

{postage  Id.)      For  school  edition  see  page  31. 

This  story  of  Laperouse's  work  as  an  explorer  and  his  close 

association   with   Australia   is   a   most   important   contribution 

to  our  history.     The   illustrations  are   from  authentic   sources 

and  very  interesting. 

LIFE  OF  CAPTAIN  CHARLES  STURT. 

By  Mrs.  Napier  G.  Sturt.     With  portraits  and  other 
illustrations.      Cloth   gilt,   3s.    6d.    {postage   Gd.) 
This   is   a   cheap   re-issue   of   the   expensive   London   edition, 
and  makes  a  fine  presentation  volume. 

13 


HISTOHY,    ETC. 


THE  ANNOTATED  CONSTITUTION  OF 
THE  AUSTRALIAN  COMMONWEALTH. 

By  Sir  John  Quick,  LL.D.,  and  R.  R.  Garran,  C.M.G. 
Royal  8vo.,  cloth  gilt,  21s. 
The  Times:    "A  monument  of  industry." 

THE  STATE  AND  FEDERAL  CONSTITUTIONS 

OF  AUSTRALIA. 

By  K.   R.   Cramp,  M.A.,   Examiner,   N.S.W.   Depari- 
ment  of  Public  Instruction.     With  portraits  and 
illustrations.     Cloth  gilt,  3s.   6d.    {postage  2d.) 
N.S.W.  Public  Insteuction  Gazette:  "Not  only  sound  and 

scholarly,    but    is    written    by    a    teacher    of    long    experience. 

....  Has    the   additional    advantage   of   being   absolutely    up 

to   date  ....  Altogether   an   admirable    piece   of   work  .... 

An  interesting,  very  helpful,  and  very  necessary  handbook." 

HISTORY  OF    AUSTRALASIA: 

From  the  Earliest  Times  to  the  Present  Day. 

By  Arthur  W.  Jose,  author  of  "The  Growth  of  the 

Empire."     Fifth  edition,  thoroughly  revised,  with 

many    new    maps     and    illustrations    from    rai'e 

originals    in    the    Mitchell    Library.       Cloth  gilt, 

3s.  6d.   {postage  2d.) 

The  Bulletin  :    "It  is   the  most  complete   handbook   on   the 

subject  available ;    the  tone   is  judicial   and   the   workmanship 

thorough  .  .  .  The    new^  chapter    on   Australian    Literature    is 

the  best  view  yet  presented." 

HISTORY  OF  THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  SYDNEY. 

By  H.   E.   Barff,  M.A.,   Registrar.     With  numeroas 
illustrations.     Cloth  gilt,   7s.  6d.    {postage  2d.) 
Published    some   years   ago    in    connection   with    the    Jubilee 
Celebrations     of     the     University,    this    volume    contains    the 
oflicial  record  of  its  foundation  and  growth. 


HISTORY  OF  THE  AUSTRALIAN 
AGRICULTURAL  COMPANY,  1824-1875. 

By    Jesse    Gregson,    Ex-Superintendent.      With    por- 
traits,  cloth  gilt,   6s.    {postage   2d.) 

IN   MEMORY    OF   ALBERT   BYTHESEA    WEIGALL, 

Late  Headmaster  of  Sydney  Grammar  School. 

By  Professor   M.   W.  MacCallum.     With   portraits 
and  illustrations,  cloth  gilt,  2s.  6d.    {postage  Id.) 
14 


MISCELLANEOUS. 


lllE  JUSTICES'  MANUAL  AND  POLICE  GUIDE. 
A   Synopsis   of  offences   punishable   by   indictment   and 
on  summary  conviction,  definitions  of  crimes,  meanings 
of   legal   phrases,   hints    on   evidence,   procedure,   police 
duties,  etc.,  in  New  South  Wales. 

Compiled    by     Daniel     Stephen^     Sub-Inspector    of 

Police.     Third  edition,  thoroughly  revised,  witli  a 

chapter    on    Finger   Prints    by    Inspector    Childs. 

Demy  8vo.,  cloth,  7s.  6d.   {postage  3d.) 

The  Magistrate:   "The  three  editions  alTord  an  illustration 

of  the  rapid  increase  of  size  in  successive  editions  of  law  books. 

The  first  was  a  little  book,  the  second  was  a  great  advauee  on 

it,  and  the  third,  which  contains  about  half  as  much  again  as 

the   second,   is   a   well-got-up   work   of   nearly   500    pages.     Its 

principal    claim    is    in    being    accurate,    handy,    thorough    and 

copiously  indexed.     The  index  references  number  over  2,800!" 


HISTORY  OF  AUSTRALIAN  BUSRRANGING. 

By  Charles  White.  In  4  parts,  each  well  illustrated 
and  complete  in  itself.  See  Commonwealth  Series, 
page  10. 

HISTORY   OF   THE  AUSTRALIAN  BUSHRANGERS. 
By  George  E.  Boxall.    New  edition,  cloth  gilt,  3s.  (id. 
{postage  3d.) 
Also  published  in  two  parts,  see  Commonwealth  Series. 


THE  PRINCIPLES  AND  PRACTICE  OF 

BOILER  CONSTRUCTION. 

By  W.  D.  Cruickshank,  M.  I.  Mech.  E.,  late  Chief 
Engineering  Surveyor,  New  South  Wales  Govern- 
ment.    Second  edition,  revised  and  enlarged,  with 
70  illustrations.     Cloth  gilt,  15s.    {postage  3d.) 
Journal    of    the    Marine    Engineers'    Association:     "A 

practical  treatise  on  the  constrr.r'tion  and  management  of  steam 

boilers  .  .  .  will     be     found     of     great     value     to     practical 

engineers." 


NATURE     STUDY. 


.1  i'OrULAli  LUWE  10   IRE  WILD  FLOWERS 
OF  NEW  SOUTH  WALES. 

By  Florence   Sulman.     With  51  full-page  illustra- 
tions.    Cloth,  3s.  6d.    {postage  2d.) 

Sydney  Morning  Herald:  "This  book  can  be  taken  into  the 
bush,  and  by  its  aid  practically  any  dower  identified  without 
previous  knowledge  of  botany.  It  is  a  book  that  has  been 
badly  needed." 

A  second  volume  is  in  the  printer's  hands  and  will  be  pub- 
lished shortly. 

SOME  FAMILIAR  AUSTRALIAN 
WILD  FLOWERS. 

Photographed  by  A.  E.  Sulman.  Paper  cover,  2s. 
{postage  Id.) 
This  is  the  best  representation  by  photography  of  Australian 
wild  flowers  in  book  form,  and  it  is  particularly  suitable  for 
sending  to  friends  abroad.  A  second  series  is  in  preparation, 
the  publication  of  which  will  be  notified  to  all  who  send  in 
their  names  beforehand. 


THE  PLANTS  OF  NEW  SOUTH  WALES: 

An  Analytical  Key  to  the  Flowering  Plants  {'except 
Grasses  and  Rushes)  and  Ferns  of  the  State,  with  a 
list  of  native  plants  discovered  since  1893. 

By  W.  A.  Dixon,  F.I.C,  F.C.S.     With  Glossary  and 
49  diagrams.     Cloth  gilt,  3s.  Gd.    {postage  2d.) 

A  BUSH  CALENDAR. 

By  Amy  Eleanor  Mack.     Third  edition,  revised,  with 

42  photographs  of  birds,  llowers,  bush  scenes,  etc. 

Cloth,   3s.   6d.    {postage  Id.) 

Literary    World:     "A    pleasant    little    book  .  .  .  There    is 

much  to  interest  those  who  have  no  personal  knowledge  of  the 

antipodes  .  .  .  and  to  tliose  who  know  the  country,  the  vivid 

descriptions  will  bring  back  many  happy  recollections." 


BUSH  DAYS. 

By    Amy    Eleanor    Mack.      With    39  photographs. 
Cloth  (uniform  with  "A  Bush  Calendar"),  3s.  6d. 
{postage  Id.) 
T.   P.'s   Weekly    (London)  :    "A  delightful   book  of  descrip- 
tive studies  in  nature." 

Book   Lover:    "A   succession    of    memories   of    happy    times 
with  nature." 

J6 


MISCELLANEOUS 


THE  ANNOTATED   CONSTITUTION   OP 
THE   AUSTRALIAN   COMMONWEALTH. 

By  Sir  John  Quick,  LL.D.,  and  R.  R.  Garran,  C.M.G. 
Royal  8vo.,  cloth  gilt,  21s. 

TuE  Times  :  "  A  monument  of  industry." 


THE  LAW  OF  LANDLORD  AND  TENANT  IN" 
NEW  SOUTH  WALES. 

By  J.  H.  Hammond,  B.A.,  LL.B.,  and  C.  G.  W.  David- 
son, B.A.,  LL.B.,  Barristei's-at-Law.  Demy  8vo., 
cloth,  7s.  6d.    (postage  3d.) 

Sydney  Morning  Hkrald:  "A  valuable  contribution  to 
legal  literature." 

THE  JUSTICES'   MANUAL   AND   POLICE   GUIDE. 

A  Synopsis  of  offTences  punishable  by  indlctmcint  and 
on  summapy  conviction,  definitions  of  crimes,  mean- 
ings of  leg-al  phrases,  tiints  on  evidence,  procedure, 
police  duties,  &c.,  in  New  South  'Wales. 

Compiled  by  Daniel  Stephen,  Snb-Inspector  of 
Police.  Third  edition,  thoroughly  revised  to  the 
be?2:inning  of  1913,  ineludino:  all  new  and  consoli- 
dated Acts,  and  with  a  chapter  on  Fin.e:er  Prints 
by  Inspector  Childs.  Demy  8vo.,  cloth,  7s.  6d. 
[postage  3d.)  [Just  published. 

Sydney  Morning  Herald,  reviewinjr  the  second  edition 
(1906):  "Justices  of  the  Peace  and  others  concerned  in  the 
administration  of  the  law  will  find  the  value  of  this  admirably- 
arranged  work  .  .  .  We  had  nothing  but  praise  for  the  first 
edition,  and  the  second  edition  is  better  than  the  first." 

RACIAL  DECAY: 

A  Compilation  of  Evidence  from  World  Sources. 

By  OcTAVius  C.  Beai-k,  A  Com?aissioneT  of  the 
Commonwealth  of  Australia,  1907,  and  of  the  State 
of  New  South  Wales,  1903.  With  numerous  dia- 
grams.   Crown  4to.,  paper  cover,  2s.  6d.  {post.  3d.) 

17 


MISCELLANEOUS 


DAIRYING  IN  AUSTRALASIA:  Farm  and  Factory. 

By  M.  A.  O'Callaghan,  Chief  of  Dairy  Branch, 
Department  of  Agriculture.  Contains  oyer  700 
pages  and  more  than  200  plates.  Royal  8vo., 
cloth,  10s.   {postage  5d.) 

Contents:  I.  How  to  Select  and  Equip  a  Dairy  Farm — 
II.  The  Dairy  Herd— III.  The  Various  Breeds  of  Cattle— IV. 
The  Jersey — V.  The  Guernsey — VI.  South  Hams  or  South 
Devons — VII.  The  Dairy  Shorthorn — VIII.  Illawarra  Dairy 
Cattle — IX.  The  Ayrsliire — X.  Holstein,  Dutch,  or  Friesian 
Cattle— XI.  Kerry  Cattle— XII.  The  Dexter— XIII.  Other 
Breeds  of  Dairy  Cattle— XIV.  Cattle  Breeding— XV.  How  to 
Judge  Dairy  Cattle — XVI.  Guenon's  Escutcheon  Theory — XVII. 
Management  of  the  Dairy  Herd — XVIII.  The  Feeding  of  Dairy 
Cattle — XIX.  Herd  Testing  Associations — XX.  The  Microbe 
and  the  Dairy  Farmer — XXI.  Dairy  Inspection  and  Cleanli- 
ness— XXII.  Water  for  Dairy  Purposes,  from  a  Bacteriological 
Point  of  View— XXIII.  Cattle  Diseases— XXIV.  Milking  by 
Machinery— XXV.  Cow's  Milk— XXVI.  Milk  Standards— 
XXVII.  The  Testing  of  Milk  and  its  Products— XXVIII. 
Separating — XXIX.  Butter  Manufacture — XXX.  The  Cause 
of  Decomposition  and  the  Means  of  Preserving  Dairy  Products 
— XXXI.  Cream  Grading — XXXII.  Bacterial  Butter  Taints — 
XXXIII.  Condensed  Milk — XXXIV.  Cheese  Manufacture — 
XXXV.  Margarine  in  Relation  to  Butter — XXXVI.  Dairying 
in  the  Argentine — XXXVII.  Siberia  from  a  Dairying  Point  of 
View — XXXVIII.  The  Pig  on  the  Dairy  Farm — Appendices. 

The  Daisy  (London):  "A  compendium  of  exact  and 
scientific  experimental  knowledge  which  will  be  found  of  the 
utmost  value  to  anyone  engaged  in  the  pursuit  of  dairy  farm- 
ing and  its  cognate  trades  ...  It  gives  in  clear  and  unmis- 
takeable  language  the  whole  of  the  dairy  manipulation  from 
beginning  to  end  .  .  .  The  author  has  dealt  with  the  points 
at  issue  in  so  general  a  manner  that  his  book  is  of  world-wide 
application  and  usefulness  .  .  .  An  illuminating  series  of 
chapters  on  all  phases  of  milk  questions  and  problems." 

The  Field  (London)  :  "He  knows  his  subject  well  and  has 
rendered  a  service  to  the  dairying  industry  by  placing  at  its 
disposal  a  book  of  high  instructive  value  and  practical 
character." 

Australasian  Medical  Gazette  :  "  If  medical  men  were  to 
suggest  that  this  book  on  dairying  would  be  very  useful  to 
those  engaged  in  the  milk  trade,  in  a  short  time  much  of  the 
deplorable  ignorance  that  now  exists  on  the  prevention  of  the 
infection  of  milk  with  all  kinds  of  bacteria  would  be  dispelled." 

18 


MISCELLANEOUS 


SIMPLE   TESTS  FOR  MINERALS. 

By  Joseph  Campbell,  M.A.,  F.G.S,,  M.I.M.E.   Fourth 

edition,  revised  and  enlarged  (completing  the 
twelfth  thousand).  With  illustrations.  Cloth, 
round  corners,  3s.  Cd.    (postage  Id.) 

Ballabat  Star:  "  This  is  an  excellent  little  work,  and  should 
be  in  the  hands  of  every  scientific  and  practical  miner." 

Bendioo  Evening  Mail:  "  Should  be  in  every  prospector's 
kit.  It  enables  any  intelligent  man  to  ascertain  for  himself 
whether  any  mineral  he  may  discover  has  a  commercial  value." 

Newcastle  Morning  Herald  :  "  The  book  is  a  thoroughly 
practical  one." 

VVyalong  Stab  :  "  Now  it  will  be  possible  for  miners  and 
prospectors  to  test  any  mineral  which  has  a  commercial  value." 


THE  PLANTS  OF  NEW  SOUTH  WALES: 

An  Analytical  Key  to  the  FloAvering'  Plants  (except 
Orasses  and  Rushes)  and  Ferns  of  the  State,  with  a 
list   of  native  plants  discovered  since  189S. 

By  W.  A.  Dixon,  F.I.C,  F.C.S.  With  Glossary  and 
49  diagrams.  Foolscap  8vo.,  cloth  gilt,  3s.  6d. 
[postage  2d.) 

Nature  :  "  A  handy  little  book  providing  a  compact  guide 
for  naming  flowers  in  the  field." 

Sydney  Morning  Herald  :  "  A  valuable  contribution  to  the 
botanic  literature  of  Australia." 


IRRIGATION     WITH     SURFACE     AND     SUBTER- 
RANEAN  WATERS,   AND   LAND  DRAINAGE. 

By  W.  Gibbons  Cox,  C.E.  With  81  illustrations  and 
a  coloured  map  of  Australia.  Crown  Svo.,  cloth 
gilt,  3s.  6d.  {postage  2d.) 

The  Australasian  :  "  The  most  valuable  contribution  to  the 
literature  on  the  subjects  dealt  with  that  bas  yet  appeared  in 
Australia." 

19 


AIISGELLANEOUS 


THE  HOME  DOCTORING  OF  ANIMALS. 

By  Harold  Leenbt,  M.R.C.V.S.  Fourth  edition, 
thoroughly  revised  and  greatly  enlarged,  with 
nearly  100  illlustrations.  8vo.,  cloth,  12s.  6d. 
(postage  8d.) 

Contents. — I.  Diseases  of  the  Blood — II.  Diseases  of  the 
Heart — III.  Diseases  of  the  Digestive  System — IV.  Tumours — 
V.  Diseases  of  the  Respiratory  Orgaus — VI.  Diseases  of  the 
Eye — VII.  Diseases  of  tlie  Brain  and  Nervous  System — VI FI. 
Diseases  of  the  Generative  Organs — IX.  Diseases  connected  with 
Parturition — X.  Troubles  of  the  New  Born — XI,  Skin  Diseases 
— XII.  Parasites  and  Parasitic  Diseases — XIII.  Diseases  of  the 
Foot — XIV.  Lameness  and  Bone  Diseases — XV.  Wounds  and 
their  Treatment — XVI.  Bleeding:  How  to  arrest  Bleeding  and 
how  to  Classify — XVII.  Operations:  Such  as  Ci'strating  and 
Docking — XVIII.  Blisters,  Blistering,  Firing,  Setons,  Seton- 
ing — XIX.  Poisons  and  Antidotes — XX.  Antiseptics  and  Disin- 
fectants— XXI.  Anaisthesia,  Insen.^ibility  to  Pain — XXII. 
Physicking,  Purging  Horses,  Cattle,  Sheep,  Pigs,  Dogs,  and 
Cats — XXIII.  Diseases  of  Poultry — XXIV.  Administration  of 
Medicines — XXV.  Medicines:  A  Comprehensive  Series  of  Pre- 
scriptions— XXVI.  Nursing  and  Foods  for  the  Sick — XXVII. 
Methods  of  Control  or  Trammelling  Animals — XXVIII.  Vices, 
Tricks,  and  Bad  Habits  of  the  Horse. 


THE  PRINCIPLES  AND  PRACTICE  OP  BOILER 

CONSTRUCTION: 

A  Manual  of  Instruction  and  Useful  Infopniation  for 
Ppactlcal  Men. 

By  W.  D.  Cruickshank,  M.  I.  Mech.  E.,  late  Chief 
Engineering  Surveyor,  New  South  Wales  Govern- 
ment. Second  edition,  revised  and  enlarged,  with 
70  illustrations.     8vo.,  cloth  gilt,  15s.  (postage  3d.) 

The  Times  (Engineering  Supplement):  "Mr.  Cruickshank 
has  given  a  useful  work  to  boiler  designers  and  superintendents. 
.  .  .  There  is  a  '  handiness  '  in  the  arrangerripnt  of  the  subjects 
which  enables  the  reader  to  locate  any  subject  quickly." 

JOUBNAT.     OF     THE     MaBINE     ENGINEERS*     ASSOCTATION :      "  A 

practical  treatise  on  the  construction  and  management  of  steam 
boilers,  and  will  he  found  of  great  value  to  practical  sngineers." 

20 


MISCELLANEOUS 


AUSTRALIAN  NAVAL  AND 
MILITARY  ANNUAL. 

Published  for  the  Australian  National  Defence  League. 
Royal  8vo.,  boards,  5s.   {postage  2d.) 

Contents:  Military  Defence  Acts  and  Statistics,  Regulations 
and  Syllabus  of  Military  College,  Commonwealth  Militia,  Rifle 
Clubs,  etc.,  Naval  Defence  Acts,  Naval  Forces,  and  much 
official  and  other  useful  information. 


LIGHT  HORSE  POCKET  BOOK. 

Compiled  by  Lieut.  D.  C.  Howell  Price,  A.  and  I. 
Staff.  A  concise  guide  to  Regulations,  Field 
Training,  Camp  Duties,  Equitation,  etc.  With 
Nominal  and  other  Rolls.  Pocket  size,  limp  cloth, 
Is.   Gd.    (postage  Mj^^O 


INFANTRY  POCKET  BOOK. 

Compiled  by  Lieut.  R.  Stupart.  A  concise  guide  to 
Regulations,  Field  Training,  Musketiy,  Camp 
Duties,  etc.  With  prefatory  note  by  Colonel  W. 
Holmes,  D.S.O.,  V.D.,  Nominal,  Section  and 
Attendance  Rolls,  and  Duty  Roster.  Pocket  size, 
limp   cloth.   Is.   6d.    {postage   Yzd.) 


THE  CADET  HAND  BOOK. 

Compiled  by  Lieut.  R.  Stupart.  A  concise  guide  to 
Regulations,  Duties  of  Non-Com's.,  Guards  and 
Sentries,  etc.,  with  Attendance  Roll  for  Section 
Commanders.  Pocket  size,  limp  cloth,  9d. 
{postage  y2d.) 


RIFLE  EXERCISES  AND  MUSKETRY 
INSTRUCTION  FOR  CADETS. 

Comiiiled    by   Lieut.    R.    Stupart.     Paper  cover,   6d. 
{postage  Vzd.) 

21 


S^CnOOL  ^WPPLEMENTART  READING  BOOKS 

THE  CHILDREN'S  TREASURY 
OF  AUSTRALIAN  VERSE. 

Edited  by  Bertram!  Stevens  and  George  Mackaness, 
M.A.   (Syd.)       With   notes.       Crown   8vo.,   cloth, 
Is.  3d.   (postage  Id.) 
This    volume    contains    all    the    best   verse    written    in    Aus- 
tralia  and   New  Zealand,   suitable   for   junior   classes.     It   has 
been  adopted  l)y  the  N.S.W.  Department  of  Public  Instruction 
for  supplementary  reading  in  primary  schools. 


SELECTIONS  FROM  THE 
AUSTRALIAN  POETS. 

Edited  by  Bertram  Stevens  and  George  Mackaness, 
M.A.  (Syd.)  With  notes.  CroAvn  8vo.,  cloth, 
Is.  6d.    {postage  Id.) 

The  contents  have  been  selected  from  the  published  work  of 
Gordon,  Kendall.  Paterson,  Lawson,  Ogilvie,  Daley,  Essex 
Evans,  Brunton  Stephens,  Mrs.  Foott,  Dorothea  Mackellar,  and 
many  other  well-known  writers.  In  addition,  the  book  con- 
tains a  number  of  fine  poems  not  obtainable  in  any  other 
volume,  and  it  is  easily  the  best,  if  not  the  only,  collection  of 
Australian  verse  entirely  suitable  for  younji;  readers.  It  is 
prescribed  for  use  in  the  High  and  Secondary  Schools  of  New 
South  Wales. 


TEENS:  a  Story  of  Australian  Schoolgirls. 

By  Louise  Mack.       Illustrated  by  Frank  P.  Mahony. 

Crown  8vo.,  cloth,  Is.  6d.    (postage  2d.) 

Sydney  Morning  Herald  :  "  Ought  to  be  welcome  to  all  who 

feel   the   responsibility   of   choosing   the   reading  books   of   the 

young  ...  its     gaiety,    impulsiveness    and     youthfulness    will 

charm  them." 


GIRLS  TOGETHER:   a  Story  of  Australian  Schoolgirls. 

By  Louise  Mack.     Illustrated  by  George  W.  Lambert, 
Ci'own   Svo.,  cloth,  Is.  3d.    (postage  2d.) 
Queenslandeb:  "A  story  told  in  a  dainty  style  that  makes 
it  attractive  to  all.     It  is  fresh,  bright,  and  cheery,  and  well 
worth  a  place  on  any  Australian  bookshelf." 

22  .;    . 


SCHOOL  SUPPLEMENTART  READING  BOOKS 


LIFE  OF  LAPEROUSE. 

By  Ernest  Scott.  With  illustrations.  Crown  8vo., 
clodi,  Is.  3d.  (postage  Id.) 
This  charming  and  instructive  story  of  the  life  and  work  of 
France's  sailor  hero,  who  was  so  closely  associated  with  Aus- 
tralia and  the  Pacific  Ocean,  is  the  first  ever  published  in 
English,  and  will  give  Lap6rouse  the  place  he  deserves  in  our 
history. 

LIFE  OF  ALLAN  CUNNINGHAM,  BOTANIST. 

By  Mrs.  F.  Danvers  Power.     With  portrait.     Crown 
Svo.,  cloth,  Is.  3cl.    {postage  Id.) 


WATERSIDE  STORIES,  BIRDLAND  STORIES, 
AND  BUSHLAND  STORIES. 

By  Amy  E.  Mack,  author  of  "  A  Bush  Calendar,"  etc. 
Crown  Svo.,  cloth,  9d.  each    {postage  Vo^.) 
These  stories  have  been  adopted  for  supplementary  reading 
in   primary  scliools,   and   are   the  best  of  their   kind   yet   pro- 
duced  in   Australia.     They   are   also   publislied   in   one   volume 
under  the  title  "  Bushland  Stories"   (see  page  14). 


DOT  AND  THE  KANGAROO. 

By  Ethel  C.  Pedley.     Illustrated  by  F.  P.  Mahony. 
Crown  Svo.,  cloth,  Is.  3d.   {postage  Id.) 


THE    STORY   OF   W.   C.   WENT  WORTH: 
AUSTRALIA'S    FIRST    PATRIOT. 

By  Lewis  Deer  and  John  Barr.  With  portrait  and 
illustrations.     Crown  8vo.,  cloth,  Is.   {postage  Id.) 

Daily  Telegraph  :  "  An  admirably-written  biography,  suitable 
for  use  as  a  reader  in  the  higher  classes  of  schools.  They  have 
jointly  presented  the  main  facts  in  the  career  of  Wentworth  with 
historical  accuracy,  as  well  as  in  capital  literary  style." 

Bulletin  :  "  Is  intended  for  school  children  and  will  be  of 
great  value  to  them.  It  will  also  supply  the  general  reader  with 
a  conci.se  and  impartial  account  of  Wentworth's  career  which 
cannot  be  obtained  elsewhei-e.  The  authors  have  done  their  work 
well." 

23 


E  DUG  AT  TONAL 


CALENDAR  OF  THE  UNIVERSITY  OP  SYDNEY. 

Demy  8vo.,  linen,  2s.  6d. ;  paper  cover,  Is.    (postage 
3d.)  [Published  annually  in  June. 


MANUAL  OF  PUBLIC  EXAMINATIONS  HELD  BY 
THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  SYDNEY. 

Demy  8vo.,  paper  cover,  Is.  (postage  Id.) 

iPublished  annually  in  September,  and  dated  the 
year  following  that  in  which  it  is  issued. 


AN  INTRODUCTION   TO   THE   INFINITESIMAL 
CALCULUS. 

By  H.  S.  Carslaw,  M.A.,  D.Sc,  F.R.S.E.,  Professor 
of  Mai  hematics  in  the  University  of  Sydney. 
Second    edition,    revised.      Demy    Svo.,  cloth,  5s. 

(postage  2d.) 

London:  Longmans,  Green  tf-   Co. 


PRACTICAL  PHYSICS. 

By  J.  A.  Pollock,  Professor  of  Physics,  and  0.  U. 
VoNwiLLER,  Demonstrator  in  Physics,  in  the  Uni- 
versity of  Sydney.  Part  I.  With  30  diagrams. 
Svo.,  paper  cover,  3s.  9d.  (postage  2d.) 


ABRIDGED   MATHEMATICAL  TABLES. 

By  S.  H.  Barraclough,  B.E.,  M.M.E.,  Assoc.  M.  Inst. 
C.E.     Demy  8vo.,  cloth,  Is.  (postage  Id.) 

Logarithms,     &c.,     puhlished     separately,     price     6d. 
(postage  Id.) 

24 


EDUCATIONAL 


HISTORY    OF    AUSTRALASIA: 

Ppom  the  Eapliest  Times  to  the  Present  Day,  with 
Chapters  on  Australian  Litepature,  Industpies,  and 
Land  Settlement. 

By  Abthuk  W.  Jose,  author  of  "  The  Growth  of  the 

Empire."      Fifth  edition,  thoroughly  revised,  with 

many     new     maps    and    illustrations    from     rare 

originals   in    the    Alitchell    Lihrary.      Crown    Svo., 

cloth  gilt,  3s.  6d.    {postage  2d.) 

The  Buixetin  :   "  It  is  the  most  complete  handbook  on  the 

subject  available;   tlie  tone  is  judicial  and  the  workmanship 

thorough  .  .  .  The  new  chapter  on  Australian  Literature  is  the 

best  view  yet  presented." 

United  Empire  ( London )  :  "  The  l;est  short  account  of  Aus- 
tralasian history." 

Glasgow  Hebalr:  "Admirably  written  and  well  illustrated." 
Spectator   (London)  :   "His  book  is  both  clear  and  interest- 
ing,   and    this    edition    contains    two    new    and    very    valuable 
chapters." 


GEOGRAPHY  OF  NEV/  SOUTH  WALES. 

By  J.  M.  Taylor,  M.A.,  LL.B.    Fourth  edition,  revised 
and  enlarged,  with  13  folding  maps  and  67  illus- 
trations.    Crown  8vo.,  cloth  gilt,  3s.  Gd.   {postage 
2d.) 
This   is   the   standard  text-book   on   the   subject,   and   it   has 
been   thoroughly   revised   and   largely   re-written.     It   has   also 
been   issned  for  general  readers  under  the  title  "  The  Mother 
State  "    { see   page  3 ) . 


LAW  AND  LIBERTY. 

A  Manual  of  the  Elements  of  Political  Economy  for 
the  Use  of  Statesmen,  Teachers,  and  Students. 
By  Alexander  W.  Johnston,  M.A.  Crown  8vo., 
cloth  gilt,  2s,  6d.    {postage  2d.) 

The  Age:  "Worthy  of  commendation,  for  it  introduces  fresh- 
ness into  a  heavy  but  important  subject  ...  As  a  series  of 
concise  piononnccMuenLs  which  convey  ideas  and  induce  thought 
it  is  well  worth  reading." 

London:  Walter  Scott  Publishing  Co.  Ltd. 

25 


EDUCATIONAL 


THE   CUTTER'S   GUIDE. 

A  Manual  of  Dresscutting  and  Ladies'  Tailoring.  By 
M.  E.  Roberts,  Lecturer  at  Sydney  Technical 
College.  Third  edition,  revised  and  enlarged,  with 
150  diagrams.  Crown  4to.,  cloth  gilt,  7s.  6d. 
{postage  2d.) 

Tailors'  Abt  Jodrnai.:  "To  all  those  inquirers  from  whom 
we  have  had  continued  correspondence  asking  for  information  as 
to  the  ways  and  means  of  perfecting  their  knowledge  in  the 
rudimotits  of  ladies'  dressmaking  and  tailoring,  we  can  safely 
say  that  no  hook  is  better  suited  for  their  purpose  than  this." 

Woman's  Budget:  "So  simple  are  the  directions  given  that 
the  book  has  only  to  be  known  to  find  a  place  in  all  houses 
where  the  women-folk  are  anxious  to  understand  the  useful  art 
of  dresscuttinjr." 


GARMENT  CUTTING  FOR  GIRLS. 

A  Course  of  Scientific  Garment  Cutting  for  Schools. 
By  M.  E.  Roberts.  Prescribed  for  use  in  Girls' 
High  Schools.  With  50  diagrams.  Crown  4to., 
boards,  2s.   6d.    (postage  Id.) 

DRESS-CUTTING  MEASURE  BOOK. 

Fur  Students  and  Pupils  using  "The  Cutters'  Guide," 
and  "  Garment  Cutting  for  Gii-Is."  Gd.  (postage 
Vzd.) 


A   JUNIOR   COURSE    OF    FIRST    AID: 

Fop  Boy  Scouts,  Girl  Aids,  and  Primary  Schools. 

By  Geor(5e  Lane  Mullins,  M.D.       With  30  illustra- 
tions, ()d.   {post  free  7d.) 


FIRST    AID    IN   NURSING: 

Fop  the  Bush  and  Country,  and  fop  use  in  Schools. 

By  Mrs.  W.  M.  Thomas  (Sister  Dickson).     Illustrated. 
Foolscap  8vo.,  cloth,  Is.    {postage  Id.) 

26 


EDUCATIONAL 


ENGLISH  GRAMMAR,   COMPOSITION,  AND 
PRECIS  WRITING. 

By  James  Conway,  Headmaster  at  Cleveland-st. 
Superior  Public  School,  Sydney.  Prescribed  by 
N.S.W.  Department  of  Public  Instruction  for 
Teachers'  Examinations.  New  edition,  revised 
and  enlarged.  Crown  8vo.,  cloth  gilt,  3s  Od. 
{postage  2d.) 


A  SMALLER  ENGLISH  GRAMMAR,   COMPOSITION, 
AND  PRECIS  WRITING. 

By    James    Conway.       New  edition,  revised  and  en- 
larged.    Crown  8vo.,  cloth  Is.  6d.   (postage  Id.) 


THE   AUSTRALIAN   OBJECT   LESSON   BOOK. 

Part  I. — For  Infant  and  Junior  Classes.  Second 
edition,  with  43  illustrations.  Crown  8vo.,  cloth, 
2s.  6d.   (postage  Id.) 

Part  II.— For  advanced  Classes.  Second  edition,  with 
113  illustrations.  Crown  8vo.,  cloth,  2s.  fid.  (post- 
age 2d.) 


NEW  TESTAMENT  LESSONS. 

By  Rev.  John  Burgess,  D.D.  Part  I.— The  Life  of 
Christ.  Foolscap  8vo.,  paper  cover,  Is.  (post- 
age Id.) 


NOTES    ON   THE    SHORTER   CATECHISM. 

By    John    Burgess,    D.D.     Part    I. — Questions   1-38, 
4d.   (postage  Id.)  - 

Part  IL— Questions  39-81,  6d.    (postage  Id.) 
Part  III.— Questions  82-107,  fid.   (postage  Id.) 

27 


EDUCATIONAL 


BRUSHWORK  FROM  NATURE,   WITH  DESIGN. 

By  J.  E.  Branch,  Superintendent  of  Drawing,  Depart- 
ment of  Public  Instruction.  Prescribed  by  the 
DeiDartment  of  Public  Instruction,  N.S.W.,  for 
Teachers'  Examinations.  With  19  coloured  and  5 
other  plates.  Demy  4to.,  decorated  cloth,  7s.  6d. 
{postage  3d.) 

The  ScnooLMASTEB  (London):  "The  teaching  ia  very  care- 
fully set  out,  and  is  quite  up  to  the  standard  of  English  authors 
in  the  same  subject.  Tlie  plates,  too,  are  very  carefully  de- 
scribed and  explained,  and  many  useful  hints  are  embodied  in 
the  notes.  We  have  nothing  but  ])raise  for  the  matter,  style, 
and  get-up  of  the  book." 


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